


Steady On Forward

by JayseHasNoGrace



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Coitus Interruptus, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Public Sex, So yeah, Whump, and its all spackled over with my own shit, emetophobia warning, i mean he kinda fucks up a lot but he's trying and he loves them all a lot, just in case. but the bats dont see it that way bc of how things shake out in this universe, lots of platonic affection, lotta saucy suggestive stuff, obv dont read if its still gonna squick you tho, platonic co-sleeping, shouldnt even have to say this bc its comics but jic, some explicit smut, tags are too long but there's a whole bit in the beginning for content warnings so pls heed those, theres kind of a lot of vomiting in this fic sorry, this is a lot of picking and choosing from different canons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 96,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayseHasNoGrace/pseuds/JayseHasNoGrace
Summary: Dick Grayson's life has never been easy, but he'd like to think it's been going better lately. He's been operating mainly out of Gotham again for almost a year, and has been in a steady relationship for just over. He knows where he stands with crime-fighting, and the family is all on pretty good terms, considering.Things are really going pretty well.Unfortunately, the balance doesn't last long, and old horrors from Dick's past end up dredged up alongside new ones.This is a story about love and family, but equally so about trauma and healing from it. Please heed the warnings in the preface.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Everyone, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s), past dick/babs mentioned, past dick/kory mentioned, past dick/roy mentioned
Comments: 283
Kudos: 412





	1. Content Warnings

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING, PLEASE READ:** **Graphic Violence, PTSD Flashbacks, Rape/SA** _(non-graphic besides Chapter 6, non-pairing; will have additional warnings below and on relevant chapters. NOT what is meant by the smut tags, those are consensual)_ **, Depression/Self Harm/Suicide Attempt** _(somewhat graphic account of the aftermath; again, further warnings below and on relevant chapters)_ **, Mention of Anti-Latinx Prejudice** _(brief, elaborated on below)_ **, Allusion to Police Brutality, Homophobia/F Slur** _(in two chapters, elaborated on below)_
> 
> Also worth a mention that the main pairing is Jason/Dick, so **pseudo incest** warning to err on the side of safety, but in this universe Dick was still holding his grudge against B for longer than most (all, I think) timelines. So Dick and Jay only met a couple times before Jay died and they never ended up having any sort of brother relationship or even mentor/mentee, it was more of a ‘that other kid my dad/mentor also mentored.’ But obviously if that is still going to squick you/if you're still going to think of it that way, don’t read.
> 
> I am also more than happy to elaborate further on any of these warnings/answer any questions in the comments.
> 
> ***All of that being said, there is NO major character death, and there IS a happy ending.***
> 
> Please stay safe, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -J

**FURTHER ELABORATION:**

**Skip if you don't want spoilers and are sure you won't be triggered by above mentioned content/do not require further information to be properly prepared**

**Graphic Violence:** Mainly your classic comic book levels, but I felt like an extra warning was needed for Chapter 6 (and there will be another warning at the beginning of the chapter). After the man assaults him and reveals he wasn't Red Hood anyway, Dick flies off the rails (like when he beats the Joker to death when he thinks the Joker has killed Tim in _The Last Laugh_ , yeah...that level. Perhaps worse). He beats the man to the brink of death with his escrima sticks, permanently maiming him, and most of what he's doing is described, so skip to the next break if you're not great with physical violence, but aren't skipping the chapter. 

There are also a few references to this and some of the others in the Batfam being disturbed by it in Chapter 7 (though they do not blame Dick).

**PTSD Flashbacks and Rape/SA:** There are several instances, and there will be a Content Warning at the beginning of any relevant chapters.

In Chapter 2, there is a vague flashback (and will be a [link](https://imgur.com/a/p1Woc) in the beginning notes to the comic pages where it happens for those who don't remember what happened/didn't read it and wish to understand) to Tarantula raping Nightwing after she kills Blockbuster in _Nightwing (Vol. 2) #93_. The flashback is non-explicit, but it does deal with some of his internal thoughts whilst it's happening.

There are a few mentions of/references to this later as well, but not in detail.

There is also mention of/reference to when Mirage disguised herself as Koriand'r and raped Dick in _The New Teen Titans issue #84_ (and again there will be a [link](https://allthetropes.fandom.com/wiki/Bed_Trick) to the panels for the same reason as above. These panels do not show it happening, unlike with Tarantula — they are simply the two panels of: 1, Mirage revealing that when Dick had thought he was having sex with Kory the night before it had actually been her in disguise, Dick's shock, and Mirage telling him it's his fault because he should have noticed. And 2, Pantha calling him a slut, and Kory getting angry and asking which one of them was better). 

The mentions are all very vague ('like with Mirage' is pretty much the extent of it), EXCEPTING the end of Chapter 7 (elaborated on below) and when Kory tells Jay about it in Chapter 9.

In Chapter 2 there is also on-screen molestation, in that a woman incapacitates Dick (whilst he is fighting her as Nightwing) and sits astride him, sending him into a flashback of what happened with Tarantula. She has been saying creepy and predatory things, but it is unclear if she actually intended to take advantage of him. She doesn't do anything more, thrown off by Dick's complete dissociation, and is chased off by a member of the batfam. There is difficult aftermath for Dick in the remainder of that chapter and the next, however, because of what's been brought back to the surface, which may be difficult for some to read.

In **Chapter 6 IS THE MOST POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING SECTION. If you skip it, you will NOT be missing anything at all that won't be gone over again later.** You can skip the entire chapter, or only read the couple paragraphs after the very last break and you will not be missing out on anything you won't be able to catch up on later.

That being said, if you do choose to read it, or are unsure if you should, it contains an on-screen, non-penetrative rape/sexual assault scene. Please be advised that Dick thinks that it's Jason whilst it's happening (à la Mirage, except that Dick is _not under the impression that it's consensual_ this time for most of it). We see what he's thinking whilst it's happening, and some of the things said/thought could hit very close to home if you have been in a similar situation, so I would advise being very cautious or skipping the scene entirely if that is the case.

Dick repeatedly has self-blaming thoughts about all of these incidents, most notably at the end of Chapter 7 when Jason finds him on the rooftop in Blüdhaven.

In that same scene at the end of Chapter 7, and again in the beginning of Chapter 8, there is reference to Jason's assault/rape by Talia in _Red Hood: The Lost Days (Vol. 1) #6_ , and Jason is still very much in denial about it when it's brought up in these scenes. (Again, there will be a [link](https://aminoapps.com/c/comics/page/blog/6-creepy-sexual-encounters-in-comics/Xdig_uReVq5qDogY4GmzaWl4kVjBNZ) (in the end notes right after Chapter 7 this time) and the panels do not show them having sex. They show Talia convincing him and then them kissing, and it cuts off). 

I call it assault and am warning about it, because although Jason 'consented', he didn't actually have the ability to consent and she was in a clear position of power over him. To name a few things wrong with the situation: 1. He's _much_ younger than her, and combined with time he didn't get to mentally grow because he was dead/a lost, mute amnesiac, that gap is even worse 2. She's been acting as his mother figure, taking care of him, and training him since she found him wandering around without memories after he clawed his way out of his grave 3. He's not entirely sane, and she's fully aware of this. He's addled by the lazarus pit, and he never really got to properly work through his death and is operating on lies and half truths she's giving him to fuel his anger 4. Besides being his mother figure, she had a relationship and a _child_ with his father figure (Bruce) 5. It's supposed to be revenge sex against Bruce, which isn't healthy at all in the first place, but doubly sick when you consider that _her_ motivations are to make Bruce (as her _ex_ that she is still somewhat stuck on) angry, and _Jason's_ are to make Bruce (as his _father_ figure/mentor who he feels didn't care about him) angry.

In Chapter 8, Bruce's rape by Talia, which is referenced in _Batman & Son, Part Two: Man-Bats of London_, is mentioned (again, there will be a [link](https://www.quora.com/Did-Talia-al-Ghul-force-herself-on-Bruce-Wayne/answer/Jos%C3%A9-A-Zapata?ch=10&share=98032bb6&srid=XMCEU%20) in the beginning notes). The comic pages do show a flashback scene of the two of them kissing, but not more than that; and Talia at first paints it as a consensual night to look back on fondly, before Bruce says all he remembers is being drugged senseless and refusing to cooperate in her eugenics experiment.

There are references to Dick having repeated nightmares/panic attacks to the point of being physically sick, particularly in Chapters 8, 9, and 10; and (in Chapter 7, plus mentioned in Chapter 8) of Tim, Duke, Cass, and Stephanie all having nightmares and intrusive memories of what they heard over the comms whilst Dick was being assaulted and they were unable to get to him in time.

In Chapter 10, there is an attempted rape; a man is holding one of the prostitutes in Crime Alley to the wall by the throat and saying she doesn't get to say no, but then Jason intervenes before he can do anything else.

In the beginning of Chapter 11, Dick intentionally triggers himself in an attempt to 'get over' his fear of sex. Basically, he convinces Jason that he wants to have sex/is ready, and heavily dissociates almost immediately, and it takes a few moments for Jason to realise what's happened.

In Chapter 13 Dick has flashbacks and intrusive memories of the events in Chapter 6.

In Chapter 14, Bruce brings up his rape by Talia. He merely says that it was nonconsensual and does not get into details beyond saying something was slipped into his drink. In the comic pages, it does not specify _how_ he was drugged, but I said something was slipped into his drink because in one of the animated movies, Damian makes the (horribly unfunny) joke that Bruce needs to watch his drink so they don't end up with another of him.

In Chapter 15, another patient at the mental hospital triggers Dick badly and he experiences flashbacks and intrusive memories of the events in Chapter 6. He is also heavily dissociating, and having a full meltdown, so he is not very in control of his actions and is panicking badly.

In Chapter 16, Talia's rape of Bruce and Jason are both mentioned and Jason finally comes to terms with the fact that what happened was not okay.

**Depression/Self Harm/Suicide Attempt:** Dick shows depressive symptoms increasingly after Chapter 2, but things don't really require a warning until later.

In Chapter 12 (there will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter), Jason discovers Dick unconscious after a suicide attempt. There is some description of blood and vomit. When he calls Bruce in a panic, he does include some graphic details of the scene, including more mention of blood and vomit, and that Dick had 'cut himself up pretty bad'. This is implied to be a one-time thing done out of desperation, and not a habitual self-harm issue. The scars from it are mentioned in Chapters 13-16.

If you or someone close to you has ever attempted/died by suicide, this may again hit very close to home, and you can skip from when Jason decides to go to Maine after Dick until Chapter 13. You would not miss anything that I'm not about to summarise below.

If you are unsure if the content may be triggering and require more info/if you do not plan to read but would like a summary, in Chapter 12 Jason calls Bruce from the hospital where he is not allowed in to see Dick and is still unsure if he is going to live. We are able to clearly see Jason's panic, which could hit hard for some. Bruce takes the plane up, and they are let in to see Dick and told he's going to be okay but is still unconscious. When he wakes up, he's devastated to find out he's alive (again, potentially hard hitting), and they have to have the whole 'so you tried to kill yourself and didn't succeed and we're happy because we love you but sad that you still want to die' conversation.

If any of you have been on suicide watch/in a mental hospital, then Chapters 13 & 15 are something to be aware of. Dick is under watch at the first hospital and then is transferred to a mental hospital, and chafes under the lack of privacy, etc. (as most of us do). There is nothing particularly triggering about those scenes that I can think of, besides what is otherwise mentioned, though.

**Prejudice/Police Brutality:** At the beginning of Chapter 10, cops show up at Dick and Jay's flat, and Jason is very wary of them. Their hands go toward their guns a few times, but nothing bad happens. They were called by the downstairs neighbours, who are mentioned to be prejudiced against Jason, at least in part because he's hispanic.

**Homophobia/F Slur:** At the end of Chapter 14 and the beginning of Chapter 15 there is some blatant homophobia and use of the word fag/faggot (not by hospital staff).

****** **As I said above, if you have any question/require further elaboration, I am happy to answer any comments.** ******

**◇◇◇**

**If you find yourself in crisis (for reasons related to this book or otherwise), please contact a crisis line. You do not have to be on the literal brink of suicide for them to help you and take you seriously.**

USA: The number '741-741' can be texted (if you don't wish to/can't speak aloud) from the USA (text 'START' to be connected to a counselor)

If you are a person of colour wishing to speak to a counselor of colour, I've seen posts saying that you can text 'HOME' to that number (741-741), but I am unsure if that works because I've never tried it.

Canada: Crisis Text Line can be reached by texting CONNECT (English) or PARLER (French) to 686-868.

Otherwise: this [link](https://www.therapyroute.com/article/helplines-suicide-hotlines-and-crisis-lines-from-around-the-world) has a comprehensive list of hotlines all over the globe.


	2. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the chapter numbers not lining up with the actual chapter numbers. I felt the warnings were really necessary though, and then there was the prologue and yeah. Sorry. It probably bothers me more than you.

Dick's eyes snapped open as he was startled abruptly from sleep, and he instinctively held himself still, merely watching from where he was curled slightly on his side. 

Jason gasped in several deep breaths and slowly lowered his arm from where he had thrust it up, reaching toward the ceiling, waking both of them as the rest of his torso had jolted up after it. He glanced over at Dick, who calmly met his eyes, and Jason seemed to deflate — sinking back into the bed with another deep breath.

He blindly reached a hand over and closed his eyes, his hand landing on Dick's thigh. There were several long minutes of near-silence as Jason took measured, meditative breaths, his hand squeezing ever tighter, but Dick didn't make a noise even when he became certain it was going to bruise nastily. He'd dealt with plenty of bruises in his line of work, and it wasn't in too inconvenient a spot — it was a small price to pay, either way, for Jason to be able to ground himself in reality.

Jason jerked his hand away as if burned when he finally processed his surroundings, and realized his grip was too tight. He looked quickly, fearfully over to Dick, and Dick easily held his gaze until he looked away again, hesitantly bringing his hand back down to lightly soothe the spot he had bruised.

Dick watched as Jason's throat worked like he wanted to speak, but it was far too early. According to the clock on the nightstand, they'd hardly gotten two hours of sleep yet. 

Jason continued to stroke over the forming bruise, hand warm and gentle. _I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was trying to ground myself, I wasn't paying attention— I'm sorry._

He rolled up onto his side to face Dick, who obligingly slid a leg between Jason's so they could lie comfortably. Jason's leg weighted heavily, the abundance of muscle pressing into the blooming bruise on Dick's thigh, but he didn't mind. He'd slept with worse.

He let out a heavy breath as Jason rested his forehead against Dick's chin, sliding his hand up until it rested between his shoulder blades to pull him closer, and rubbing slow circles. _I'm sorry. Sorry for waking you up._

Dick threw an arm over Jason's shoulder, briefly burying it in the back of his hair, before running it down his back, over his hip, and then back up. _It's okay. I'm here. I've got you, you're safe. I'm not letting go._

Jason kissed the hollow of his throat, and Dick pressed his hand a bit tighter to Jason's back. _I love you._

A short trail of kisses ended at Dick's mouth, and they exchanged a few lazy, sleepy kisses before Jason moved away again, scooting slightly down the bed, kissing over Dick's chest. _Thank you._ _I love you._

He burrowed closer, nosing against Dick's chest and dropping the occasional kiss before he finally drifted back to sleep.

Dick pressed a kiss to the top of his head, carding fingers through his coarse hair, and let his own eyes drift shut. _Goodnight_.


	3. One

Flying never got old for Dick. The feeling of the wind in his hair, the split second of free fall before he shot out another grappling line — even though it had long since become second nature to him, it was thrilling every time. It just felt so _free_ in a way that almost nothing else could compare.

Well, perhaps the trapeze, but even that wasn't nearly as thrilling without someone else to do the tricks with, and the only one available to him was in the Batcave. Some of his fondest memories were of his parents tossing him from one to the other on the trapeze, spinning end over end before being safely caught in one of their hands. There was never any _real_ danger, but it was still so exhilarating flirting with the idea.

He shot out another grappling line, vaguely heading uptown but not really caring where he went in particular. He reached the peak of his swing and let go, doing a backflip before he shot out a line again, and an invigorated laugh burst out of him.

"Well, guess we've gotten to that time of the night where Nightwing's doing stupidly fancy flips off of buildings or some shit to keep himself entertained," Dick heard Tim say over the comms.

He was patrolling with the rest of the bats in Gotham, as was becoming increasingly common for him. It wasn't that he'd given up on Blüdhaven, he _did_ still check in every so often, it was just that there was nothing really tying him to the city anymore. He didn't have a job there anymore — he'd quit the police force several years before — and once he and Jason had become more serious, it felt stupid to put more distance between them. So he'd moved back to Gotham.

At first, he'd tried to keep up with going to Blüdhaven every night, but it just wasn't sustainable. He still kept a couple safehouses there, and he still took cases based there, but mainly he worked out of Gotham.

Everyone seemed to be on the comms tonight, spread out across the city on various cases or patrol areas. Everyone except Jason, that was. He'd decided to take a case with Roy out in stupid _Arkansas_ , much to Dick's displeasure.

"It wasn't off of a _building_ ," Dick protested.

"So you _are_ doing unnecessary acrobatics," Tim shot back.

"Found Scarecrow," he heard Barbara say, interrupting their banter. Scarecrow had broken out of Arkham the night before, and it had only been a matter of time before he showed up again. "He's got a couple of civilians cornered in the alley beside the laundromat on 6th, probably going to give them some fear toxin."

"I'm nearby," Stephanie's voice came over the comms. "On it."

"You're not taking on Scarecrow alone, who's backup?" Bruce asked.

"Me, already on my way," Tim said. "ETA three minutes."

Dick made an abrupt turn midair, and started heading east, toward where he'd left his motorcycle just in case they needed extra backup. Scarecrow could be nasty, and he'd managed to gas or shoot up several of them with his fear toxin before.

He could hear Stephanie and Tim fighting Scarecrow as he started his motorcycle and took off.

"Shit, Red just got an armful of fear toxin," Stephanie said over the comms, and Dick urged his bike faster. "Scarecrow's run off. Heading toward seventh."

The buildings blurred as Dick whipped past them. Scarecrow on the loose was never good — who knew how much fear toxin he had on him.

"Red Robin has some antidote in his belt, should I bank on Scarecrow not having changed the formula since last time?" Stephanie asked.

"Try it," Bruce directed. "I'll pick him up and bring him back to the Cave. I'm five minutes out."

"I'm almost there," Dick said. 

"Me too," Cass added.

"Ambulance is on the way for the victims." Stephanie's voice paused, presumably as she assessed Tim. "I don't think the antidote did anything, he's still shaking pretty bad."

"Spotted," Cass cut back in. "Scarecrow, Ninth and East Street."

Dick pulled up just in time to see Cass in front of a run-down flower shop, zip-tying the hands of an unconscious Scarecrow behind his back. 

"Well, I feel a bit useless," he joked. Truthfully, he didn't really care, he was just glad that _somebody_ had brought him down.

Cass grinned up at him. Or, at least, he _assumed_ she did — it was hard to tell with the cowl.

She leaned back down and pulled a full syringe (which was thankfully still in one piece) from Scarecrow's pocket.

"I can take that back to B, if you're good to stay here and wait 'til they haul him away. I was planning on heading back to the Cave for some research after this anyway."

Cass nodded and handed the syringe over.

By the time he got to the Cave, Bruce and Tim were already back.

"Hey B, I got a sample of the fear toxin Scarecrow was using," he announced, heading back to the medical area.

"Thank you, Nightwing." He held his hand out for it without looking up. "I was able to quell some of the side effects, but I was hoping somebody would get some to help synthesize an actual antidote more quickly."

Tim looked pale where he was lying on the medical gurney, and he was still trembling slightly, eyes clenched tightly shut as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

"You think he's gonna try to claw my face off if I touch him?"

"Doesn't seem to be that type of fear toxin this time, thankfully. Batgirl and I were able to get him into the Batmobile just fine."

"Good." Dick picked Tim's trembling hand up off the stiff sheets, and squeezed it tightly. Tim squeezed back.

Dick stayed by his bedside, squeezing his hand and stroking his hair back from his forehead, talking to him calmingly as Bruce worked.

"Hold his arm still for me," Bruce grunted, filling a clean syringe with antidote.

Bruce flicked the side of the syringe and pushed the plunger up a bit to get rid of the air bubbles, then came up beside Dick. Dick was holding Tim's arm to keep it from trembling, one hand a few inches above the inside of his elbow, and the other a few inches below.

"The good thing about being so tense is at least the veins stand out well," Bruce muttered, swiping an alcohol pad over the area. He quickly slid the needle into the vein in the inside of Tim's elbow and depressed the plunger.

Tim gave a full-body shudder as Bruce pulled the needle out and slapped a Hello Kitty bandaid on.

Dick raised an eyebrow at the bandaid. "Didn't know you were such a fan."

"Hn. Mysteriously all we had left."

Dick grinned. Oh yeah, he had forgotten Jason had switched out all the bandaids in the Cave last week to annoy Bruce.

Tim's tensed muscles finally started to relax. "Gah, I'm achy," he croaked after a minute.

"Having your entire body tensed up for over an hour will do that," Dick said.

Tim grimaced. "Yeah." He shook his head a little. "So that was fucking awful. Remind me not to go after Scarecrow ever again."

"You need help getting upstairs?" Dick asked.

"No, just...give me a minute." After a few seconds, he grabbed Dick's arm, and hauled himself up to sitting. "Oof I feel like I got run over."

Dick made a sympathetic noise.

"If you're making sure he gets upstairs into bed, then I'm going to head out and finish up patrol," Bruce said.

Dick nodded and waved him off.

"I don't need an escort to get upstairs," Tim protested, as Bruce headed across the Cave to the Batmobile.

"Mhm." Dick didn't bother to sound like he believed him. "Because you're so well known for going to bed when you're told. You're getting an escort so you don't do something like try to go back to your apartment." He held out his arm for Tim to grab, and then paused, looking him over. "Let's find you something so you can get out of your costume first, or Alfred will have our heads. I take it you're not really up to a shower right now?"

Tim grimaced, but nodded. "Yeah I don't think so." Better to admit it now than to try to force himself through it and have his still-shaky legs collapse under him. He really didn't fancy taking a fall to the hard tile floor right now — his poor body had been through enough tonight.

He let his legs dangle off the side of the gurney and carefully peeled his mask off his face as Dick rummaged through his locker.

"Here." Dick tossed him a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, and turned away, heading back to the lockers to get changed himself. No costumes in the manor was a rule for a reason.

They got dressed quickly, and shoved their uniforms and boots into their lockers. 

"You think Alfred will give me coffee?" Tim asked. "I know I'm not supposed to have it so late, but I just went through an ordeal, I think I deserve it." 

Dick wrapped an arm around his waist for support, and Tim reluctantly let him take some of his weight, putting an arm over Dick's shoulders. He really hated needing to lean on people, but he thought he would hate getting up close and personal with the floor right now a bit more.

"Not a chance. You're supposed to be going to _sleep_. To recover from said ordeal." Dick led him to the elevator, and Tim huffed.

"I'm twenty one, I should really be able to make my own coffee choices by now."

Dick rolled his eyes as they got into the elevator. "Well _you_ can be the one to tell Alfred that. Can't wait to see how _that_ pans out."

Tim did _not_ pout the entire rest of the way to his old room. Definitely not. That would be childish.

"Alright, in you get," Dick said, holding back the covers.

"I can get into the bed myself, Dick," Tim said annoyedly, but he slid into the bed.

"I know, but I'm tucking you in. You've had an _ordeal_ ," Dick said, leaning over to tuck the blankets securely around Tim.

Tim rolled his eyes, but allowed it. "Thanks mom," he said sarcastically. Not that his _actual_ mother had ever done anything like this for him. He certainly wasn't going to admit to Dick that he actually kind of liked being mothered, though.

Dick just kissed his forehead, and left with a, "Sleep tight, Tim," before shutting off the light and closing the door softly behind himself.

"Was that Master Timothy?" Alfred asked, and Dick looked over to the butler standing at the end of the hallway.

"Hey Alfred. Yeah, he had a run-in with Scarecrow and his fear toxin."

"What a shame. Shall I make a snack for him?"

"Probably. I put him to bed, but I doubt he'll stay there."

Alfred nodded knowingly, and retreated back downstairs.

Dick headed back down to the Cave, and pulled up some feeds from the docks a few days before. Tim had asked him yesterday to lend an extra pair of eyes to a case of his, and since he was currently out of commision and Dick had the rest of the night to himself, it seemed like the perfect time.

He set the feed to quadruple speed and sat back, waiting for any activity. Tim had been pretty certain there would be _something_ in the past three days but hadn't had the chance to look at the feeds himself.

He settled in, knowing he'd probably be working on this until well after the sun was up — he didn't have much to go on yet, and he didn't know quite what he was looking for. 

His phone rang, and he glanced at the screen.

"Hey." He put the phone on speaker and set it next to the keyboard, returning his attention to the feed.

"Hey baby." Jason's voice sounded tinny through the cellphone, but it was nice to hear all the same.

He missed Jason especially at night — he _hated_ sleeping alone. That was another reason he'd been happy to help out with Tim's case; it was another thing to throw himself into until he was so tired he fell asleep without brooding on his empty bed.

"How's the mission going?" Dick asked.

"Boring as hell, that's how." There were a few metallic clicks and a small _clunk_ in the background. Jason did, indeed, sound bored as hell. "What're you doing over there? Not out on patrol? I assumed I'd be getting voicemail."

"Nah, came back early. Going through some footage looking for leads on a case Tim's got me consulting on." He squinted at the screen and slowed the frame rate. "What are you up to?"

"Just cleaning my guns. Probably the most exciting thing yet today."

Dick smirked. "Is that a euphemism?"

"No," Jason laughed. "I didn't call you jerking off. Not this time at least."

"Yeah, I don't think Roy would appreciate that too much."

" _Roy_ is out getting us dinner, and even if he wasn't, he ain't the boss of me or what I choose to do when I've got my pretty boyfriend on the line."

Dick snorted at Jason's tone, which had slid so quickly from mock outrage to over-the-top flirty. 

"Oh, well your pretty boyfriend is _so_ sorry for questioning your authority."

"Thank you. You should be."

Dick laughed. Damn, he really missed Jason.

"So…" Jason spoke up again. "If you're going through CCTV footage right now...any chance you could send me a copy of you taking down that guy like a week ago? You know where you—"

"Oh you mean that _sick ass_ move I actually pulled off? Yes I can. I already have a copy of the clip on my phone and it's honestly depressing that I can't post it any and everywhere online." It took barely a second to text the clip to Jason, and he could hear him watching it on the other end.

"Fuck, babydoll. That was _hot_." Jason groaned in dismay, and there was a _thunk_ as he smacked his head on the table. "Arkansas fucking sucks, I miss you. We're wrapping this shit up in three days tops, I swear, and then I'm coming home."

"I miss you too."

"You better. The things I'm gonna do to you when I get back…"

"Yeah?" Dick prompted, though he was only halfway paying attention to him. He switched the video to frame by frame, and zoomed in on the background.

"As soon as I get in that door, one of us is getting bent over whatever's closest, and I'm gonna make you scream."

Fuck, the shadow was just a bird. Dick zoomed back out and sped up the video again. "You sure _I'll_ be the one screaming?" They both knew that Jason was definitely the loud one between the two of them.

Jason laughed. "Probably not," he admitted, "but I can try my best. I would _love_ to lick you out after we finish, I could go for _hours_ , eat you out until you can't even _speak_."

" _Yikes_." A rather heartfelt voice came from behind Dick, and he spun around in the chair.

"Oh shi— Uh. I gotta call you back!" Dick fumbled with the phone until he hung up, and then slowly turned back to the intruder.

Tim was paused partway down the stairs, still looking rather pale and drawn. He was looking over Dick's shoulder, and Dick turned to see a tired-looking Bruce making his way across the Cave from where the Batmobile was parked. Great. Sometimes he really hated how stealthy the Batmobile was made to be.

"Hi Tim...Bruce. You're back early."

"Yikes," Tim repeated, deadpan, looking between Bruce, whose face gave nothing away, and Dick, who looked like he was trying very hard not to look guilty. 

Bruce sighed. "The _Cave? Speakerphone?_ Really?" he said, confirming that he had indeed heard.

Dick blushed. "I was _working!_ " He gestured back toward the screen.

"And you thought it was a good idea to...what, _multitask?_ "

Dick thought Tim looked like he was going to pass out from the embarrassment. Or maybe that was just the residual effects of the fear toxin. If it was indeed embarrassment though, Dick at least felt better knowing he didn't look like _that_ anymore. He'd had some version of this talk several times over the years and, while it was still awful every time, he was better equipped to handle it than Tim was.

"It was an _accident_ ," Dick insisted. He wasn't _lying_ , they hadn't _intended_ for the conversation to go that direction — or at least _he_ hadn't.

Bruce gave him a very, _very_ tired look, which was a serious accomplishment with the cowl still in place.

A bubble of awkward laughter burst out of Tim's throat. "How do you have phone sex on _accident?_ "

Bruce turned the disappointed face on him, and Tim bit his lip and attempted to compose his face.

"Look, I'm sorry," Dick said. "I didn't mean for the conversation to go that direction; I'm just trying to look for more clues on those arms smugglers for you." He gestured at Tim.

Bruce nodded, but he didn't drop the disappointed face until he had turned away and headed towards the showers. 

Damn. Dick _knew_ he did that on purpose to make him feel guilty, but it still worked.

"So…" Tim said, finally coming the rest of the way down the stairs. "How's Jason?"

Dick turned back to the computer. "You don't actually care, and you know that _I_ know that, so please let me do my work and let's never speak of this again."

"Fine, fine." Tim held his hands up in surrender. "Somebody's grumpy. Can't _imagine_ why that is," he mumbled.

Dick gave him his patented _'Why must you hurt your big brother, who has done nothing but love you?'_ look. He thought it was required much more often than it really ought to be. "Why are you bullying me? And why are you out of bed?"

"Because you make it easy. And also you deserve it for making me hear about you and Jason's sex life." He very obviously avoided answering the latter part, and Dick narrowed his eyes at him.

"You're supposed to be _resting_ ," he said sternly, "and that wasn't my fault!"

" _Speakerphone_ ," Tim emphasised.

Dick huffed and turned, once again, back to the computer. "Bully someone else, or better yet, go back to sleep."

Eventually, after being ignored for a quarter of an hour, Tim wandered off. Although, Dick doubted he was taking his advice and going to sleep without anyone to force him to — more likely he was going back upstairs to work on a case in one of the files he'd snatched when he thought Dick wasn't looking.

◇◇◇

Two nights later, Dick found himself staring blankly at his computer screen with the information on the illegal firearms shipment later that night. The words blurred in front of his eyes, and he wiped at them brusquely. He still had to go out on patrol later in the night, but he was still caught up in the case he was helping Tim on.

It was already pushing three in the morning, and he'd not gotten to sleep until around seven or eight the past two nights.

It was set to be another long night, but the good news was that he was fairly certain that he and Tim would be wrapping this case up tonight. The bad news was that Jason was still gone, and the two cases he'd put on the back burner for this one weren't _nearly_ as engaging.

◇◇◇

"Nightwing out tonight?" Dick heard over the comms the next night, and he took in a surprised breath.

" _Hood?_ "

"Hey babydoll, I'm home." Dick swore he could hear Jason's smile. "I'm crossing into Gotham right now."

"Names, Hood," Bruce reminded tersely.

"Whatever, old man."

Dick grinned. "I still have some research to do on a couple of open cases when I get home, but I shouldn't be out here much longer. Maybe an hour?"

"Alright, I gotta check in on the working girls anyway."

"Tell Kandee I said hi, and thanks again for the coffee."

There was a loud smashing of glass on the street below, and an alarm started blaring.

"Jewellery shop on Fifth and Centennial. I've got it," Dick reported, jumping off the roof and shooting out a grappling line.

It didn't take too terribly long to deal with the break-in — it was just a couple of petty thieves who were taken down easily in a few minutes, and the cops had already been on their way, thanks to the alarm system.

Dick started across the city to Crime Alley to catch up with Jason. 

"I'm headed home. Red Hood out."

"Wait, I'm on my way to you, meet me at the corner of Crescent," he said, before Jason could turn his comm off.

"Sure thing, baby."

As soon as his bike came to a stop, Jason was jogging over to him and sweeping him into his arms. Dick felt himself immediately relax into his embrace, breathing in his familiar comforting scent of gun oil and leather.

"I missed you," Jason said, popping his helmet off with one hand and kissing him.

"Missed you too," Dick mumbled against his lips.

Jason kissed him again, and then skimmed his teeth along Dick's jaw. "I believe we have plans, don't we?" he said lowly in his ear.

"Gross, get off the comms already," Stephanie complained.

Whoops. Dick pulled back slightly. "Nightwing out," he said, before flicking off his comm unit with annoyance. 

"Sorry baby, didn't know you were still on the comms," Jason apologized, kissing behind his ear.

Dick arched his neck. "I don't care as long as you keep doing that. Now, what were you saying about our plans? I think you said something on the phone about one of us getting fucked as soon as we made it in the door?"

"I said one of us is getting bent over whatever's closest, but I think you fucking me against the wall will do."

"It'll definitely do. Where's your bike? Let's get home before it gets any more uncomfortable to ride."

"I grappled down here, I'm hitching with you," Jason said, pressing one last kiss to his neck, before swinging his leg over to sit behind Dick. He put his helmet back on, and squeezed Dick's hips lightly with his thighs. "Let's go, sugar."

The case files on that stalking case and the new street drug making its way through Blüdhaven could wait a few hours, Dick thought; they didn't seem to be tied up in anything major.


	4. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING Chapter Contains:** Sexual Assault and PTSD Flashbacks
> 
> * * *
> 
> Since it's referenced in this chapter, I am providing a [link](https://m.imgur.com/a/p1Woc) to the comic pages where Tarantula rapes Nightwing in _Nightwing (Vol. 2) #93_ , and a [link](https://allthetropes.fandom.com/wiki/Bed_Trick) to the pages where Mirage raping him is referenced in _The New Teen Titans issue #84_ , for those who didn't read or who want a refresher on what exactly happened.

“Who the hell are you?” Dick grunted as he fought a woman in a simple black domino mask.

She was the one who had been stalking one of the ER nurses at Gotham General Hospital; and her peering over the side of a rooftop facing the exit with a gun on a night he was working late didn’t look good. Thankfully, Dick had gotten the drop on her and kicked it out of her hand and over the side of the building before they’d started fighting.

What he couldn’t figure out was why she was fighting instead of running. She didn’t seem to have any sort of established costume, just dark athletic wear and the domino, and the gun was certainly not the type of rifle ideal for shooting from such a distance. Everything screamed random amateur with a grudge, but she was _fighting_ him…and she was pretty good.

Perhaps she figured he would catch her even if she ran, and that she may as well go down fighting. Really there was no telling until he took her down.

“It’s none of your concern who I am, pretty boy.” Her teeth flashed as she grinned, dancing out of the reach of his Escrima Sticks, and landing a hard kick to his wrist. His left-hand Escrima Stick went flying and clattered across the rooftop.

He twisted his hand quickly to grab her foot and yank her off balance. She crashed hard onto the rooftop on her back, and Dick took the moment to grab two Wingdings out of one of his gauntlets while she was down. “Really?" he said. "Because I’m pretty sure I bring down criminals, and it’s looking like you are one. You know, what with the _waiting with a gun_ after stalking a nurse here for days," he said.

She quickly rolled to the side and back up onto her feet, backing out of his reach again and managing to dodge both of the Wingdings as he threw them quickly one after the other.

“You don’t operate in the law either, Mr. Vigilante-Wing.”

Like those two things were comparable. Ugh.

Dick didn’t dignify that with a response, and decided to take a risk, since she was moving out of his reach again and again so quickly. He took a running start and flipped over her head, reaching out to strike her from behind with the remaining Escrima Stick. He landed a hard hit with a small electric shock on her shoulder, but just as he made contact, she turned, jabbing her elbow up and back, striking him in the side of his head on his way down. He felt his communicator pop out of his ear, and it bounced away over the rooftop.

Well that had been stupid of him to try. He stumbled, and dropped to his knees, fighting dizziness.

“I’ve got to admit, they weren’t exaggerating. That was pretty hot, Nightwing. Too bad I saw it coming.”

She shook her arm out, chasing away the feeling of the electric shock as she stepped forward toward him. He tried to strike at her with the remaining Escrima Stick, but she stepped on his wrist and it fell from his grip. She kicked it across the roof. 

“Oh, it’ll be okay. I’m sure you’ve lost fights before,” she crooned, pushing him back.

When his back hit the ground, he tried to jab his knees up as his head swam disorientingly. Shit, he was probably concussed. He reached for his left gauntlet to grab more of his Wingdings, but she pushed his wrists down, easily avoiding his knees as she straddled his lap, pinning his wrists securely under her knees. She settled down against him, her hips swivelling slightly, and suddenly his whole body felt paralyzed.

“See, isn’t this nice, handsome? That’s right…”

Her voice faded out, and his breaths were coming quick and panicked, and suddenly his head was ringing with the echo of a gunshot instead of just a concussion. The domino mask looming above him now glinted orange in the night, and what had been tightly tied back brown hair turned darker, with loose, long tendrils hanging down over his face, wet from the pelting rain.

“Catalina,” he choked out. Tarantula. Blockbuster. Oh god, he had just stood there and let her kill him. He had failed, broken everything he was supposed to stand for. And now she was crawling over him…

**_Shhh…_ **

“Don’t touch me,” he whispered, unable to move, unable to get her off, barely able to talk, barely able to _breathe_.

His groin ached in a way that made bile rise in his throat.

_My responsibility. My fault, my fault._ He wasn’t sure if the words were actually coming out of his mouth or not.

Everything continued to grow more and more disjointed, shadows looming above him, and that horrible _weight_ pressing down on top of him, worsening those terrible feelings that just wouldn’t _stop_. 

Dick’s mind checked out, empty eyes staring up at the equally empty, dark sky.

◇◇◇

Jason listened to Dick fighting someone through the comms, as he walked down one of the many damp alleyways Gotham had to offer. There was a sudden crackle and a small popping sound in his ear, and Jason immediately went on alert.

“What was that?”

“Nothing technical…everyone sound off,” Barbara said.

Everyone except Dick responded quickly, confirming that their comms were undamaged.

There was a small silence.

“Nightwing?” Barbara asked. “Nightwing, come in.” She waited a second. “I think his comm got knocked out.” She boosted the volume, and they heard a feminine voice come in, sounding far away and indistinct. 

“—ice, Handsome? ...t’s right, good boy.”

“Where the fuck is Nightwing?” Jason demanded, and Barbara immediately sent his location to Jason’s helmet. 

"Catalina," he heard Dick croak out through the comms.

“I’m going in for back up," he said firmly.

He took off, grappling up onto the nearest rooftop, and running flat out. Damn, he really should've brought his motorcycle out tonight, but he hadn't thought he'd be going far. 

He was just supposed to be having a quiet, easy night checking up on the sex workers around central Gotham, and making sure none of the dealers in the area had forgotten that the Red Hood was watching and started trying to deal to kids again. This was not in the books.

“ETA four minutes,” he panted, leaping from one rooftop to the next.

“Black Bat, get closer to Nightwing’s location in case of extra backup,” Bruce ordered, and Barbara sent the location to Cass’s cowl.

“Going.”

“Got a visual on Nightwing, he’s down. Unsure if injured. Woman’s still there. I’m engaging,” Jason said, as he sprinted across the final roof, and pulled a gun from his thigh holster, flicking the safety off and cocking it.

As he approached, he could see her straddling Nightwing, who was flat on his back, looking unresponsive. She was staring down at him, looking confused and a little scared.  
  
“Get the _fuck_ off of him, creepy bitch,” Jason growled dangerously, levelling the gun at her.

Her head whipped around to face him, and she scrambled backward off of Nightwing, landing hard on her backside.

“What did you do?” he demanded, moving to stand between them and looming over her, keeping the gun trained on her face.

“N-nothing,” she held her hands up in surrender and slowly stood up. “I just elbowed him in the head while we were fighting, and then I was...and he just…”

“Run. Before I change my mind and shoot you.” 

She didn’t have to be told twice, and scampered away over the rooftops. Jason put away the gun and scanned Dick, kneeling beside him. 

“Possible concussion. No other physical injuries. He’s conscious, but unresponsive, hyperventilating,” Jason reported. “Woman was white, unarmed, about 5’7. Masked, dark hair. No uniform, black clothes.”

He leaned forward, taking off his helmet — Dick seemed to be breathing words. Jason listened, unsure if the speech was conscious.

“Don’t...My fault. My. Fault...Don’t...Don’t. Don’t.”

“Dick, baby, come on,” he tried, but Dick continued to stare blankly straight up. “Gotta come back, babydoll.”

It would probably be a bad idea to touch him right now, he decided, so Jason sat back and continued calling for his attention.

◇◇◇

When Dick’s world finally began to recreate itself, a familiar voice faded into existence. “Dick? Hey — Dickie, babe, are you there?”

With great effort, he finally let his head roll to the side. “Jay,” he breathed out, realizing as he tried to do so that his breaths were still coming too quick and shallow. He tried to slow them, to breathe deeper, but he didn’t seem to have as much control as he should. 

Black spots danced over his vision, and he blinked rapidly.

“Hey baby. Do you think you can get up so we can get you home?”

Dick made a noise which even he wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a ‘no’ or an ‘I’m fine’. He felt like both were the answer he was supposed to give.

“He needs to come to the Cave so we can check him out. She’s an unknown variable. She could have injected him with something, or maybe a pollen from Ivy, or she could even be magic,” Bruce’s gruff voice came in through the comm. Jason clenched his jaw. He wanted to snap back a sharp response, but he didn’t want to scare Dick, so he bit his tongue and ignored him.

“Is it okay if I touch you, just to help you sit up?”

“Yeah.” It was very gradual, but sure enough, Dick’s breath was slowing.

Jason helped him sit, and shifted back to crouch beside him as Dick wrapped his arms around his knees. He slowly caught his breath, and Jason seemed content to just sit there with him as he regained himself.

“Are you mad at me?” Dick asked, quietly, tonelessly. “I don’t know what happened, I don’t know if...are you mad? I didn’t know, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“No babydoll, I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

Dick shrugged, but his face held no emotion. “‘S happened before. Kory. Babs. Please don’t leave me. I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not gonna leave you, okay? I’m not mad, I—”

Suddenly, with hardly a split second’s warning, Dick vomited. 

He had just enough time to turn his head to the side away from Jason, but some of it still got on the side of his Nightwing suit as he gagged.

“Dammit,” he muttered, still coughing slightly.

“Babe…?” Jason hadn’t moved his position, but his hands hovered, slightly outstretched, clearly unsure if his attempts to soothe would make things better or worse.

Dick held up a hand as he spit and caught his breath again. “I’m fine,” he said flatly. “I’m going home.”

He slowly began getting himself to his feet.

“No. Bring him to the Cave, Hood. He needs to be checked over,” Bruce demanded in Jason’s ear.

Jason suppressed an annoyed sound, and stood up.

“'Wing. Did she inject you with anything? Was there any magic?”

Dick shook his head slowly, refusing to meet Jason’s eyes. “I don’t know...I don’t know what happened after…..Nothing happened before I lost both of my Escrima Sticks.”

“Do you wanna...What was going on in your head?”

He shook his head again. “Nothing. It was just...I was…” He swallowed hard. “…..Tarantula.”

“Tarantula?” Jason raised his eyebrows, then he pressed his lips together tightly in displeased understanding. “Catalina.”

Jason didn't know much about the situation, but he had known there was _something_ that had happened, even if Dick didn't talk about it.

There was a beat of silence before Dick responded, face still terrifyingly blank.

Another brisk head shake. Not denying, but dismissing. “I’m fine. I’m going home.”

Jason nodded. 

“You’re bringing him to the Cave, or I’m coming to get him.” Bruce growled.

Jason gritted his teeth, and tried to respond as quietly as possible while jogging over to pick up the Escrima Sticks and Wingdings. He gave up Dick’s earpiece for lost — he wouldn’t find it in the dark.

“This doesn’t concern you, B.”

“It _does_ , Hood. It’s a matter of safety. We need to get Nightwing checked out.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, and he wants to go _home_ ,” Jason hissed.

“Is that B?”

Jason turned, and found Dick staring at him.

“Yeah, he wants to check you over back at the Cave.”

“Give me.” Dick held a hand out for the earpiece.

Jason slowly took it out and handed it over.

“No.” Dick said firmly, into the comm. “Learn to take it for an answer. Don’t come find me.” He dropped it onto the rooftop and ground it under his heel, shattering it.

“We’re going to our regular place," Dick said, taking his Escrima Sticks back from Jason and putting them in their holster. "I’m not gonna bother hiding from him." He shoved the Wingdings back in his gauntlet. "If he shows up, I _will_ fight him.”

Jason put his helmet back on, and they headed off in the direction of their main flat, jumping off of the roof and firing their grappling lines in tandem.

◇◇◇

A crackle echoed through the comms as Dick stepped on it, and there was a short silence.

Barbara cleared her throat. “Nightwing, Red Hood out.”

There was another silence.

“I’m going home. Red Robin out,” Tim finally broke it.

“Red. What are you planning on doing?” Bruce asked.

“I’m just going home. I’ve got research to do.”

“Red,” Bruce warned. “Don’t go sticking your nose into Nightwing’s business.”

Stephanie butted in. 

“Me and Black Bat are already heading over to search for the woman 'Wing was fighting. And no, Batman, we aren’t going to listen to anything you say otherwise.” Her tone brooked no argument. “Besides, she’ll be able to tell us if she used anything on him and you won’t have to keep badgering Nightwing to come to the Cave, because he clearly isn’t going to.”

“Please keep me updated, Batgirl,” Tim responded. “And B, I can and will find out what the hell Tarantula has to do with this, because I know you (and probably Oracle too) know more than you’re letting on. Red Robin out.” His comm went silent.

Bruce sighed. “Signal, Robin. Are you two at least going to continue the usual patrol?”

Both replied in the affirmative, but neither of them sounded particularly happy about it — although Damian was the one who actually sounded blatantly resentful.

Bruce grunted disapprovingly at Damian’s tone. “Fine. I’m going to cover the south side, since everybody over there has apparently jumped ship.”

“Hey Oracle, can I get a private line to you real quick?” Duke asked.

“Sure. One second. Okay, it’s just us now, what’s up, Signal?”

“Uh, I just didn’t want Batman to hear and get mad at me, but could you set up a channel between me, Black Bat, Batgirl, and Red Robin? I mean, you don’t have to, but...could you?”

Barbara sighed. “I could... Hold on, Red turned his comm all the way off, I’ll need to text him.”

“Thanks, O.”

Duke was almost done zip-tying a would-be-mugger’s hands together, when Barbara came back on. 

“Signal. I’m about to put you all on a line. But remember, I _am_ still listening. I told the others, but...you’re the only actually responsible one, so...tell Red to keep his big mouth shut about my business.”

The line opened and he heard Stephanie’s exhilarated laugh as she and Cass flew through the air toward Gotham General.

“Alright kids, enjoy your gossip, since you’ll do it later anyway. Oracle out.”

“Hey guys.”

“Signal, what’s up?” Tim asked, at the same time Stephanie and Cass chimed in. “Hey Signal!” “Hi.”

“...Hey. So, I don’t agree with you guys nosing into Nightwing’s business, and I don’t like that you all completely ignored Batman…” Duke started.

“Sounds like there’s a _‘...but’_ coming,” Stephanie said.

“Yeah. But I’m worried about Nightwing. I don’t want to know whatever it is Red Robin digs up because that’s not my business, but do you think he’s okay? What just happened?”

“Understandable,” Cass stated.

“Do you wanna know what we find out about the woman from tonight?” Tim asked.

“...Uh, yeah, I think I do. She’s a current case, right? I mean Nightwing was trying to take her down, so...yeah I wanna help take her down too. Or at least know the deal if Black Bat and Batgirl catch up with her tonight.”

“Okay then,” Tim said, putting on his business voice. “All I know so far is that, one, that wasn’t Tarantula. Catalina is dead, and while we _have_ known some cases of dead people not staying dead, this woman didn’t match the description, and didn’t have an accent — plus I’m sure Nightwing would have recognized her earlier. He clearly didn’t know who she was, and she was the amateur-looking stalker case...that doesn’t sound like Tarantula.

“Two, I said B and Oracle (hi, Oracle) probably know more about this, and I do stand by that...but I'm not sure exactly how _much_ they know. I think they both may have guesses at the very least, and that they're more familiar with Tarantula than the rest of us; especially since (sorry Oracle, I’ll stop talking about you after this) Tarantula was all mixed up in Oracle and Nightwing’s break up a few years ago and, you know, name drop. 

“Three, I don’t know if Hood knew what Nightwing was talking about either when he referenced Tarantula, but he probably at least has some better guesses since he and Nightwing are, like, a serious relationship now or whatever.”

“Okay, so then where does that leave us?” Duke asked. “I think you’re right, we can assume that the woman wasn’t Tarantula, but I could’ve sworn he said ‘Catalina'. That was one of the few things I _could_ still hear after his comm got knocked out. So why would he say that? Did he recognize her as a friend of hers or something? Why would she be coming here _now_ instead of when this happened, I mean you said it was years ago.”

“Yeah, I thought I heard him say her name too,” Stephanie agreed. “I couldn’t hear anything else _he_ said, but I could hear enough of _her_ to know she was definitely stepping over the 'don’t say that, that’s fucking creepy' line. Then again, Nightwing gets that a lot, so I feel like he’s kind of used to it.”

“Uh-uh,” Cass interjected. “Not just words. Over the line.”

“I...think Black Bat is right. Some of the stuff Hood was saying and some of…I can’t fully explain myself because of some things Signal doesn’t want to know, but, as much as I don’t _want_ to think that’s what happened, it does sound like a ‘bad touch’ thing.”

“Oh. God, I hope he’s okay,” Duke said. “I don’t...I don’t think we should be talking about this anymore.”

“Yeah, but then— ugh, I have redacted-for-Signal questions now, because then I don’t understand some other things about...ughh. Because if...back then, then why would he…unless maybe it was later?” Tim asked. 

Really though, if Tarantula had done that, then why would Dick have kept seeing her? Why did he have to be talked out of marrying her by Bruce?

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, you know...about the stuff B had to intervene on, I don’t know...it’s not that simple. Especially with guilt and, well, you know Nightwing takes the blame for, like, everything,” Stephanie said.

“This...isn’t very well redacted. I really think we should stop talking about this. If he wanted us to know, we’d know,” Duke butted back in.

“Yes.” Cass agreed firmly.

“Fine,” Tim said. “We’ll stop speculating. Signal is making me feel guilty about it.”

“Well, we’ve lost any leads on the woman without using a computer for the surveillance feeds anyway, so we’re heading back,” Stephanie said.

“Gotcha. I’m gonna keep looking through the files on Tarantula. Batgirl, I’ll tell you what I find, Black Bat, you want in as well?”

“No.” Her tone made it clear she didn’t think _they_ should be looking into it either.

“I just…” Duke said, “do you think he’s gonna be okay with just Red Hood? I knew Nightwing _had_ a temper, but I never _saw_ it before. He’s usually so calm and nice...and Hood isn’t exactly known for being collected and good with emotions. Is Nightwing gonna have anyone to talk to?”

“Oh, _that_ wasn’t Nightwing’s temper,” Stephanie said. “When you see it, you’ll _know_. But lets hope you don’t.”

“Yeah, that was nothing — Nightwing used to have little snits like that all the time,” Tim agreed. “And as for Hood...well, you heard him when he went to get Nightwing. He knows what he’s doing. He’s actually probably the best person for 'Wing to be around right now; the Red Hood has dealt with this kind of stuff a lot — it’s kind of an unfortunate specialty.”

“Okay,” Duke still sounded uncertain. That didn’t match up with a lot of what he’d seen from Jason, but he did have to admit Jason had handled it pretty well tonight. Duke just hoped the man’s patience held.

“Don’t worry,” Cass said. “Hood would never hurt Nightwing. Go home.”

Duke sighed. “Okay. Signal out.”

“Red Robin. Could you keep your comm on for a minute?” Barbara broke in. “Putting the rest of you back on the main channel. Oracle out.”

“So...why am I being held after class?” Tim asked.

“I just wanted to...if that _is_ what happened with Tarantula, I didn't know. That isn’t why we broke up. I didn’t...it wasn’t like that.”

Tim sighed heavily. “Yeah, I figured. That doesn’t sound like you — Kory either — but, you know how brains make all sorts of connections that aren’t really there, especially with trauma…I doubt he actually thinks that you dumped him over that, or that you blame him, Oracle.”

There was a small silence as Barbara bit her lip.

“I hope so, I just...I really hope so. She— she kissed him, and I got...mean about that when I probably shouldn't have. But I didn't know she did anything else." Barbara sounded pained, and Tim did his best to contain his judgement. 

He knew he didn't know the full story and he had no idea what Babs had said or how mean it actually was, but his kneejerk reaction was still to tell her off for it. He bit his tongue, though, and stayed quiet.

"I would ask Kory if she knows about anything that happened when they were together," Barbara continued, "but...I don’t really think I should tell other people about what happened, especially when we don’t even really know what happened. I mean, how could I even ask that without explaining tonight?”

“Yeah. I think you’re right. Let’s just...keep it between us. Do you want to be filled in on anything I find about Tarantula that you might not know?”

There was another small silence. “I feel guilty, but...yeah, I do.”

“Us bats are great with guilt, huh? Doesn’t stop us doing things anyway though.”

“...Yeah.” Her voice was heavy, but resigned.

“Red Robin out.”

◇◇◇

“Where are you going, Damian?” Bruce demanded. They had come in from patrol about an hour before, and he was sitting at the Batcomputer, back facing Damian, who had just come out of the showers dressed in street clothes and was pulling on his boots.

“I already typed up my reports. I’m going to see Richard,” he said, petulantly, knowing Bruce would argue.

“No. If he isn’t coming back here to get checked out, there could be something wrong with him. What if it’s a pollen and it gets on you? What if he’s unstable and he hurts you?”

“Don’t follow me.” Damian ignored him, and kick-started his motorcycle, tearing out of the Batcave.

In no time, he was pulling up in the garage under Dick and Jason’s regular flat. Might as well start the search there.

He quickly exited the garage and scaled the side of the building, hauling himself up onto the fire escape, and running to the fourth floor. He probably shouldn't be up here for long now that dawn was breaking and he could be seen in the daylight.

He looked through the window. Oh. They were actually in there. He’d figured he might have to try a few safehouses before he found them.

Damian gave himself a moment to catch his breath outside the bedroom window before sliding it open as quietly as possible, deftly disarming the alarm.

Dick didn’t move from where he was lying on his side at the edge of the bed, but his eyes flicked from Jason’s sprawled sleeping form to Damian.

He looked wide awake.

Damian climbed inside, and closed the window, before awkwardly standing at the end of their bed, unsure how to ask the question he wanted.

When Jason had gotten to him, it had sounded like he hadn’t wanted to be touched. He didn’t want Richard to cuddle him just to make _Damian_ feel better if he didn’t want physical contact.

Dick cleared his throat quietly. “Come on.” He beckoned Damian over with his hand.

He hesitantly pulled off his boots, and climbed up onto the bed between them, carefully leaving space between himself and Dick.

Dick held his arm out. ‘It’s okay. Jay checked me over and I don’t even have a concussion — I got off easy.”

Damian’s face twisted at that, and Dick hugged him tightly. Damian squeezed back, tucking himself securely under Dick’s chin to hide his face. “I’m fine, it’s okay,” Dick murmured into his hair, rubbing calming circles over his back.

 _Got off easy._ Tt, Richard was such a liar. Damian knew from personal experience that trauma flashbacks took a lot out of a person, and that had certainly sounded like what had been happening with Richard.

And, of course, something had to _trigger_ it. Damian didn’t know what all exactly the woman on the rooftop had done, but she had at the very least been _on_ Richard, saying repulsive things, enough to trigger him into some sort of episode. And for doing that, a small part of Damian wanted her dead, wanted to kill her himself.

He didn’t _actually_. Damian fully understood and subscribed to the no-kill policy, but that tiny sliver of him, the bred-and-trained assassin, still had those thoughts sometimes.

But he _would_ find her, and he’d figure out what game she was playing, and then he’d bring her to justice.

Damian inched closer to Dick, curling in on himself, and Jason roused.

“Mm?” His voice was scratchy, and he spoke slowly, groggily. “Oh, ‘s the li'l gremlin. Hey.” He stretched, and then patted Damian on the head, rolling over toward them.

He dragged the duvet that had been twisted around his legs over all of them, and let his arm lay over them both, closing Damian in.

“Y’okay baby?” Jason asked, as he stroked a thumb over Dick’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Jay, I’m fine.”

“Gremlin?” Jason asked.

“This is...adequate,” Damian replied.

“Mhm,” Jason sighed, halfway back to sleep already.

Actually, Damian found it more than adequate. It was...quite nice. 

He felt...safe. Loved.

He hoped Richard felt the same.


	5. Three

“There is _no_ reason to bench me!” Dick argued into the comms, as he sat down against a gargoyle moodily.

“I’m just saying I don’t think you’re in a state right now to be patrolling. At least take tonight off,” Bruce said.

“I’m fine! There’s nothing wrong with me, and I can decide to patrol if I damn well want to.”

“Nightwing,” Bruce sighed, and Dick could tell he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not trying to be your enemy here. You were clearly shaken up last night, and you still refuse to come to the Cave—”

“Batman,” Dick interrupted, mimicking his tone patronisingly. “I’m a grown ass man and I can make my own decisions. I’m. _Fine_.”

“Come on B,” Jason said, before Bruce could respond. “How much does it take to get you to take a night off?” 

Jason wasn’t thrilled that Dick refused to take any time off from vigilante business, but he wasn’t gonna take his choices away. If Dick wanted to throw himself into his work and ignore everything else for now, then Jason would back him. And he’d be there if things started to get bad. “How would _you_ like it—”

“ _I_ allow A to screen me for injuries or complications if something like that happens!” Bruce retorted.

“The _fuck_ you do. You’re the master of brushing off serious—”

“Hey.” Barbara snapped, interrupting them. “Does anyone have a secondary comm turned on?”

They all responded in the negative.

“There’s an extra signal coming in, hold on, I’m changing…okay I think I’ve blocked them from listening—”

“You _think?_ ” Bruce butted in.

“Batman,” Barbara said, tightly. “I’m _trying_ , but I’ll need to leave it on to try and track the signal, so I can’t be sure they won’t find a way to listen in if they know what they’re doing.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry Oracle.” Bruce sounded tired. “Thank you. Are you certain it’s someone using one of _our_ comms?”

“Yes,” she said. “Nightwing, did you recover the one you lost last night?”

“Uh. Crap, no, sorry. I was just out of it and I wasn’t thinking—”

“Hey. Babydoll. It’s okay, it’s not on you,” Jason interrupted him. “I looked briefly, but these things are so damn small and it was too dark, I figured it didn’t matter. We’ve lost ‘em before,” he said to the rest.

“ _Names_ , Hood” Bruce reminded him tersely.

“You need help getting that giant stick out of your ass, B?” Jason retorted.

“If someone is listening in right now, we do _not_ need to give them any extra information about ourselves. Oracle, have you found the location of the signal?”

“No. They did something to the tracker, and it’s making the location ping in all different places. Hold on.”

“I’m heading back toward Gotham General to look around the area. The woman had a gun, and I kicked it off the building. Gonna check if it’s gone too,” Dick said.

“You left a _gun_ lying on the street last night?” Bruce demanded.

“ _Batman_ ,” several of them warned at once.

“Leave him alone,” Tim added, before addressing Dick. “The gun’s probably gone anyway — it’s _Gotham_ — but it’s still probably a good idea to scope out the area. And if you find your comm, then we know someone got ahold of someone else’s.”

“Absolutely not,” Bruce said authoritatively. “You shouldn’t be out here anyway and you definitely shouldn’t be going back over there, especially if there could be someone potentially dangerous — potentially the _same woman from last night_ — around there.”

“Well you can’t fucking stop me, B. I’m already on my way.”

“Damn, Nightwing’s really been spending too much time with Hood.”

“Red Robin,” Bruce gritted out. “That is not helpful.”

Jason laughed. “Naw, babybird, that’s all him. It’s like you don’t know some of the stuff he said when he quit being Robin— oh wait,” he said, with mock shock. “You weren’t there, you were still off being a little stalker.”

“Boys,” Bruce warned.

“Hey!” Tim complained. “You weren’t there when he quit either. You were still off being a delinquent—”

“ _Boys!_ " Bruce repeated, more firmly.

“Can we not rehash the family drama right now?” Dick asked.

“Can you agree to take the night off, and stay away from Gotham General?” Bruce shot back.

“Damn, let it _go_ , old man,” Jason said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Red Hood. Nightwing—”

“I really don’t know why you think my answer’s gonna change,” Dick said. “I’m almost there anyway, and if you ask me one more time, I’m just gonna tell you to go suck a—”

“I lost the signal,” Barbara broke in. “They turned it off completely.”

Bruce sighed. “Were you able to narrow down the location at all?”

“Just to Gotham, which isn’t much help,” she said. “Dammit. I’ll continue to be on the lookout for if the signal comes back on again.”

“No gun, no comm. The pieces of the comm I crushed are gone too,” Dick reported.

“Great, so they’ve been figuring out how the comms work, I’m sure.” Bruce sighed again. “Nightwing, could you cover the waterfront with Red Robin? It’s supposed to be busy down there tonight.”

“What, giving up on yelling at me to go home?”

“Well last time I tried, you were going to tell me to _'go suck a cock'_ , unless I missed my guess,” Bruce said dryly. “So yes.”

There were several snickers over the line.

Dick smirked. “On my way. ETA fifteen minutes.”

When Dick arrived, Tim gave him a high five, starting to laugh again. 

“Nice.”

“Thanks. Hood owes me twenty bucks now.”

“What do I owe you money for?” Jason broke in indignantly.

“Oh, are you saying you don’t remember betting me that I couldn’t get B to say ‘cock?’” Dick asked innocently, and various muffled laughter burst out across the comms again.

“I honestly wish I was surprised.” Bruce had never sounded so long-suffering.

Jason spluttered. “That was like two and a half years ago!”

“Oh, does your honor have an expiration date?” Damian needled, gleefully. “Hold to your word, Hood.”

“Stay out of this, gremlin. I’m not paying out on an almost three year old bet I made when I was _bored_.”

“But he has a point, Red Hood. I want my money.”

Stephanie laughed. “Don’t tell me our favorite drug lord is low on funds?”

“No one asked you, blondie. It’s not the money, it’s the _principle!_ ” Jason retorted.

“Sounds like you’re just mad he won the bet,” Duke chimed in.

“Am not! I was gonna compliment him on it!”

“But you didn’t. Suspicious,” Cass said.

“Hey Batman?” Barbara asked. 

“Yes, Oracle?” he responded wearily.

“Is there any chance you could lend Red Hood twenty dollars? He’s in a bit of debt right now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Jason said, and he heard Damian cackling.

“Fine. I’ll pay Nightwing the damn twenty dollars when we get home. You’re all the worst. I hope you’re happy, babe.”

“Exceptionally,” Dick grinned.

◇◇◇

"Alright, stay still you squirmy fuck," he said to a burglar the next night as he worked to zip-tie his hands behind his back. "I'm not out to draw blood, but the zip tie's gonna cut into your wrists if you keep doing that."

"Holy pottymouth, Batman!" the burglar said in a teasing approximation of his earnest Robin voice from decades past. "Didn't know Nightwing was allowed to cuss out here."

There was a snort of laughter over the comms, which Dick ignored.

" _Allowed?_ I'm a big boy now." He said, tightening the zip tie and testing its hold. "I can reach the top shelf and everything. It's all very exciting."

The man laughed and tried to squirm out from under the knee on his lower back again.

"Thought I said to stop squirming," Dick said idly, sending out a signal to the police.

"Sorry, we're not all used to being tied up, _Boy Hostage_."

"Cute," Dick said. "But I was never Robin. Or maybe I was — guess you'll never know."

The man snorted. "Sure," he said sarcastically. "You and your fancy flips are more recognizable than you think."

"Can neither confirm or deny," Dick said lightly, "But between you and me, I've always thought I had the legs for it." He got to his feet and rolled the man over, helping him to sit up against the brick wall.

The man eyed him appreciatively. "Among other things." And yep, okay, he was definitely staring at his ass. Time to go.

"Gross," he commented. "Enjoy your ride in the paddy wagon." The sound of sirens drew closer, and Dick grappled up onto the nearest roof.

"You okay, Nightwing?" Tim asked.

" _Yes_ ," Dick said, gritting his teeth. They'd all been asking that way too often when it was completely unnecessary. "Why would I not be? A routine burglar. I've been dealing with those over three times as long as you."

" _Just asking_ ," Tim mumbled.

Dick sighed and bit his tongue to keep himself from snapping _'Well don't'_.

"Maybe you should head off early tonight, get some rest. It's a quiet night, we'll be fine," Bruce said.

This time, Dick _did_ snap. " _Twenty years_ , B. Twenty damn years I've been doing this, you think I don't know that?"

"Nigh—" Bruce started, but Dick cut him off.

"I'm _fine_ , and I'm not going home. Why are you still trying to bench me? I thought we had this conversation last night!" He threw his hands up, even though nobody could see him. "I'm not eight anymore, Batman. When are you gonna learn that?"

Dick was already missing Jason always being in his corner against B, but he was off dealing with some drug lord business tonight and wasn't on the comms.

" _Nightwing_ ," Bruce said patiently. "I'm well aware you aren't a child anymore, but that doesn't mean I can't watch out for you. You shouldn't be out here without letting A check you over—"

"Sure, watching out for me. Not like it's actually about control and things needing to be done your way or no way, right?"

"I _am_ watching out for you, whether you want to acknowledge that or not. I'm sorry you've decided everything has to be some sort of power struggle." 

He sounded so classically Batman — gruff and impersonal — and it made Dick's blood boil.

"Oh _I've decided?!_ " Dick said incredulously. "I can't believe in a decade you haven't learned a goddamn thing. Not everything has to go by your rules, B. I'm my own person! We aren't Batman and Robin anymore!"

"This isn't about that!" Bruce's composure finally cracked. "Just let us make sure you're okay! A is worried about you too, are you really going to do this for your pride?"

"Don't try to guilt me with A! He knows I'm fine, and I just talked to him last night. Red Hood and I are perfectly capable of assessing whether I'm alright or not, and you need to learn to trust our judgement."

"You don't have all the resources we have at the Cave—" Bruce started.

Dick cut him off again. "Bullshit!" he said. "We have all the resources we need, and you damn well know that."

"I just want—"

"I don't care! I don't care what you want, I just need you to _trust me._ " He paused. "What happened to us being equals?" he asked, sounding hurt.

Dick may be his son, yes, but he had always been Bruce's equal. He may officially be Bruce's ward, but sometimes, in a lot of ways, he was more like a brother. Dick had never really been a sidekick the way the other Robins had been — he was Batman's crime-fighting _partner_ , and a detective in his own right. He had been doing this whole vigilante thing for just _barely_ less time than Batman had, and they therefore had the same level of experience. Maybe not when it came to bigger, Justice League related things, but when it came to Gotham crime-fighting certainly.

"Nightwing…" Bruce sounded close to giving in and Dick seized on it.

"Please," he pleaded, quieter. "Please just let me _be_ , Batman. Please."

There was a long silence, and then finally a quiet "Hrmph" — as close as Bruce was ever going to get to admitting defeat.

◇◇◇

Dick didn't get home until around five that morning, and after a quick shower, he joined Jason in quietly working on his laptop. They were still working in companionable silence about an hour later, when Damian climbed through the window still in his Robin uniform.

"Hey. Were we...expecting you tonight?" Jason asked.

"Not particularly," Damian said. "I just decided to come over on my way home."

"Cool."

Jason and Dick turned back to their computers and Damian dithered awkwardly, in a very un-Damian way.

"Do you need something?" Dick asked. "You know you're free to the shower or food or whatever."

"...No." Damian said. Dick looked up at him, waiting for him to explain what he was waiting around for. "Just...do you need anything? I can take over some cases for you or…" he trailed off as Dick's expression shuttered.

Dick breathed deeply, his aggravation from earlier coming back full force. "Dami, you know I love you a lot, but, in the nicest way possible, please leave me alone. I'm _fine_."

"Bruce and Alfred know you're staying over tonight?" Jason asked, changing the subject, which Dick was grateful for.

Damian shrugged. "I'm sixteen, I can stay over if I want without checking with them first."

Jason restrained himself from rolling his eyes, and turned back to his computer. "Take a shower and then call one of them. Or at least text."


	6. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING Chapter Contains:** Explicit Sexual Content 
> 
> _Stop reading after the second break (_ ◇◇◇ _) if you wish to skip_

Dick sat on the floor of the shower several nights later, too exhausted to stand for any extended period of time, and blinking back the tears welling in his eyes as the water beat down on him.

Tears of frustration, mostly, and a little bit of pain at this point.

He had gone through this before, years ago, after the whole thing with Tarantula had happened, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember how he’d gotten over it.

And right now he felt like he just wanted to _scream_.

He was incredibly sexually frustrated, but he still hadn’t figured out how to make things work with Jason without panicking before they even started. 

And with _himself_ , he couldn’t manage to stay aroused long enough to just _finish already_ , and it was quite honestly becoming painful.

It probably didn’t help that he wasn’t even into it, he just desperately wanted it to be over with already, but he just _couldn’t_ — and at this point he was getting pretty close to just going into the kitchen and shattering every single dish they owned just to try and relieve a little bit of the stress.

Fuck. He took his hand off of himself, giving up as, once again, his body, which had been heading toward an erection, seemed to change its mind.

He rested his forehead on the edge of the bathtub, staring down at his hands. The fact that he had to see the ugly, yellowing bruises on his wrists from where… _she_ had disarmed him every time he looked down probably wasn’t helping either. 

But he tried to ignore those thoughts the most, pushing them away into a locked drawer in an empty corner of his mind. It was, unfortunately, better to wallow in the frustration.

Dick concentrated on the cool porcelain against his face and closed his eyes. He was not going to cry over this.

But, _shit_ , he really wanted to.

After a few deep breaths, Dick levered himself up off the floor, and turned the water off.

He stepped out of the shower, towelling off, and pulling on a loose t-shirt and sleep pants — and ow, fuck, even that hurt. He was sore as hell and hadn’t even managed to get off, god.

He leaned heavily on the sink, avoiding looking at his reflection in the mirror. If his body would just _cooperate_ …

He hesitantly touched himself again through the soft fabric of his pants, and...was entirely unresponsive. He wrenched his hand away with an angry sigh, and practically ripped the door open, storming out of the bathroom.

Dick flung himself into one of the chairs at their dining table, laying his face down against the cool wood with his arms stretched out above his head, palms flat on the table.

“Babydoll?” he heard Jason ask from the kitchen, where he was likely drinking his nighttime cup of tea. 

Dick heard his quiet footsteps come around the corner, and stop in front of the table. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Dick mumbled into the table. “I just need a few minutes before I come to bed.”

“Okay.” Jason retreated back into the kitchen, clearly taking the hint that Dick wanted to be left alone.

It was unfair that he couldn’t just _let it go_. It wasn’t like Dick was the most sex-crazed person — he’d easily gone a month or two before without needing to get off. It was just... _Jason_.

He banged his head gently on the table. He’d try watching porn, but— oh wait, he’d already _been_ trying that. For the past three goddamn days. With no results.

Shit, he even had live porn if he wanted. He’d _tried_ watching Jason get himself off, and he’d _liked_ it, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to touch himself. Even alone afterwards, it hadn’t worked.

It would be one thing if he was repulsed by sex, but he _wasn’t_ , and that was worse. Because he was into it in his head, but then the reality of it just completely shut everything down, and — just — _ugh_. He was so wound up he thought he was gonna _die_. Or at the very least, spontaneously combust.

Dick clenched his hands into fists, and slammed them down, just once, onto the table.

 _God_ , it wasn’t really Jason’s fault, but...Dick would _not_ be having this fucking problem right now if they weren’t together. 

He was just always _around_ , and being understanding, and nice, and a good boyfriend, and _really fucking hot_ and built, and. Ugh. It sucked. And it wasn’t like Dick wanted him to _stop_ , it just...it made things difficult.

And, holy hell, the first couple of days after That Night, when he’d had to listen to Jason get himself off… He hadn't been doing it on purpose, Dick knew that, he had been trying to be discreet, doing it quietly in the shower; but the thing about Jason was, even when he was trying very, very hard to be quiet, he...wasn’t.

And so Dick had asked to watch him, thinking maybe _that_ would be the solution to the problem, but no. No, _that_ had made it _so_ much worse. 

He hadn’t been able to touch himself while it was happening, it felt too vulnerable, but when Jason finished, Dick had gone to the bathroom. And for a minute — just for a minute — he'd thought he was _finally_ going to get his relief after fucking _days_ of walking around frustrated as hell. And then right before he was about to come, he felt a sort of _skip_ in his stomach, and everything immediately plummeted down to zero.

He had dumped their toothbrushes into the sink, and slammed the cup they had been in so hard onto the ground that shards of glass had gotten in his hair. And then he’d sat down on the edge of the tub and cried until Jason had knocked on the door.

Dick had gotten up, tried to brush off all the bits of glass, wiped away his tears, and pretended everything was fine when he opened the door. It obviously wasn’t, as evidenced by his red, puffy eyes, and the flying leap he had to take into the hallway to get over the, you know, _shattered glass_ all over the floor, but Jason hadn’t mentioned it. Just offered to clean up the mess and make him some tea.

Yeah...Dick was pretty sure he was just gonna drop dead.

But what the fuck else was he supposed to do at this point? It wasn’t like he could exercise it away — he’d been running around all goddamn night on patrol and that clearly hadn’t helped. He’d taken a cold shower, he’d tried jerking off, his cock was practically _raw_ — what the fuck _else_ was he supposed to do?

He allowed himself a few more minutes of wallowing, before getting up and going to bed.

It was only a few minutes before Jason joined him, carefully climbing under the covers without touching.

Dick scooted closer, impatiently.

“Hold me?” he asked quietly, when Jason still made no move to touch him.

“Yeah, baby.” Jason reached out to him, slinging his arm over his shoulder, but still leaving plenty of space between their bodies.

“ _Not_ what I meant.” And okay, maybe he was in a bad mood and taking it out on Jason — he knew his boyfriend was just trying to be careful, but it was still annoying.

He wriggled himself over until he was lying halfway on Jason’s chest, and Jason finally wrapped his arms all the way around him.

“Comfy?” Dick asked.

Jason ran a hand through his hair, and kissed the top of his head. “More than.”

◇◇◇

"Irene O'Leary," Tim announced into the comms in lieu of greeting the next night. It was only eight — very early in the night — and he figured most people wouldn't be on yet.

"I think I found The Woman," he continued, the capital letters audible in his tone. "Classic, spurned ex of that nurse she was stalking—"

"Red," Duke cut him off. "Nightwing's on the comms."

Dick cleared his throat. " _Exactly_ ," he said. "Nightwing is on the comms, so maybe don't talk about me like I'm not here."

"Sorry," Duke said. "Just trying to warn him."

"Why exactly does he need to be _warned?_ " Dick asked. "Now, what were you saying about O'Leary? What info have you found?"

"Um," Tim said, put on the spot. "Are… are you sure— you know, maybe I should talk about this some other time."

"Or you could talk about it now," Dick said.

"I...don't think—" Tim stuttered. 

"I think Red Robin's right, maybe now's not the time," Stephanie said.

" _Seriously?_ " Dick said. "Are you guys really doing this? Just tell me the info, Red! It's _my_ case!"

"Uh," Tim said.

"Fine! Fine, I'll do my own research. Consider this case no longer any of your business. Nightwing out," Dick said hotly, and flipped off his comm. Fuck the rest of the bats for tonight, fuck patrol; if they were all going to treat him like glass then he'd stay in and do research, maybe wrap up some cases.

He climbed back in the bedroom window and stripped off his suit, throwing on some pajamas instead in a huff.

Just as he was sitting down at his desk with his laptop, Jason came into the room and did a double take. "Hey babe, not going out tonight after all?"

"Changed my mind," he said tersely, pulling up his file on The Woman and shifting in his chair so he could do some stretches while he worked. "Everybody's being an asshole tonight." He managed to maneuver himself into a split with one foot on the end of the bed, and the other on the radiator under the window.

"Hm," Jason grunted in commiseration. Dick heard him opening the secret compartment in the back of their closet and starting to pull on his Red Hood gear. "What'd they do?"

"Don't wanna talk about it." 

There was a series of sliding clicks as Jason checked the clip in each of his guns. 

Dick sighed. "They're being all skittish around me and treating me with kid gloves, and it's getting on my nerves," he finally admitted, when Jason said nothing.

"Mm that's fucking annoying, 'm sorry honey." There was a final _shick_ as Jason slid his last gun into its holster, and he walked over to press a kiss to his temple. "I've got a meeting of sorts with Black Mask, and then I think I'm gonna come back early. 'Less you wanna be alone?"

"No, that's fine," Dick said, pausing his typing to tilt his head up for a quick kiss on the lips. "Good luck with your meeting."

And then Jason was out the window, and Dick was left to his own devices.

He worked quietly for several hours, shifting stretch positions twice, until Jason came back. Dick was currently in leg-behind-head pose as he looked over a spreadsheet when Jason came through the window, smelling of gunpowder but apparently no worse for wear.

"You know you're apparently my 'little blue boy' now? Makes you sound like a pet smurf." Jason imitated Black Mask's voice as he began to get undressed: "I'm sorry to hear you aren't... _amenable_ to my terms as they are. I'm sure my men would enjoy hunting down your little blue boy and putting the screws to him until you are."

Dick cracked a smile, and carefully eased himself out of his stretch, shifting into a simple butterfly pose. "Ooh scary," he said sarcastically. "I'm a bit offended he doesn't see fit to torture me personally, though. What'd you say?"

"I couldn't help but laugh." Dick heard the secret compartment in their closet snick shut and one of the dresser drawers was pulled open. "Told him I'd pay to watch them try. You know what it does to me to really watch you _fight_."

"Mm, bet he wasn't too pleased with that."

"No, not at all. Kind of want him to follow through. I can see it in my mind: you doing cartwheels around them and knocking out every single dumb motherfucker who's stupid enough to come after you. Figurative cartwheels," he added. "Maybe a couple literal cartwheels. You ever done that?"

"What, cartwheeled into someone? No, not a very practical way to land a kick."

"Hm. Bet it'd be hot though."

"You think everything I do is hot."

Jason came up behind him and pressed a kiss to the side of his face, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Can't argue that. Whatcha workin' on?"

"Trafficking case. I could use another pair of eyes on it." He scrolled up to the top of the spreadsheet. "It's not much of one, but there _is_ a pattern here, right? I'm not imagining it?"

Jason scanned the screen. "Yeah, I'd say that's a pattern that's trying very hard to look like it's _not_ one. No repeats. What do you bet they've got the numbers… oh, three through fourteen or so in a hat, drawin' 'em out at random to see how many days to wait 'til the next abduction? Don't wanna wait too long, don't want it to be a sudden string, don't want a predictable pattern. Somebody fancies themselves smart, I think."

"Oh good, that's what I was thinking. I love the ones who think they're clever."

◇◇◇

Dick woke up from the most delightfully erotic dream alone and painfully hard.

Oh this had to be a form of torture.

 _Please, please,_ ** _please_** _don’t go away_ , he prayed, before carefully attempting to touch himself, and...yeah things were fading fast.

No no no _no_. He squeezed harder, but, nope. It was gone.

 _Fuck_. He kicked at the mattress moodily. 

God, that dream...Jason had been in a nice, big office with a skyline view, similar to Bruce’s office at Wayne Enterprises.

He’d been in full Red Hood gear, with his helmet on the desk beside where he leaned back in the leather chair, legs spread casually.

Dick had come in and sat right on his lap, and then Jason had fucked him, right there in the chair, just like that. They hadn’t bothered to even take off their clothes, just moved them to the side— and _fuck_ , Dick _wanted_ that. He wanted it _bad_.

And...why couldn’t he have it? He thought about it, and frowned. 

He would be on top, so he probably wouldn’t freak out about that, and as long as Jason didn’t touch him...maybe...they could try? Shit, this could work.

Dick stumbled slightly in his rush to get out of bed. Where even _was_ Jason?

Jason was leaning back against the kitchen counter, sipping his tea, when Dick strode in, looking like a man on a mission.

“Fuck me,” he said authoritatively, without preamble, and Jason choked a little on his tea.

“Uh, what? Dickie…”

Dick actually stopped to take in the fact that Jason was still messy haired and drinking his morning cup of tea, and had probably just rolled out of bed. Sex was probably _not_ on the top of his list for things he wanted to do right this very second.

Dammit. Why was life just the _worst?_

“Sorry. I didn’t— if you’re not in the mood, I’ll go, uh...figure something out.” He started to turn away.

Maybe if he fucked himself with a toy — dammit, why hadn’t he thought of this before?

“Wait.” Jason slowly set down his mug on the counter behind him. “I just...are you _sure?_ Because I can definitely _be_ in the mood.” His voice darkened toward the end of the sentence.

“ _Yeah_.”

“C’mere then.” Jason unceremoniously shoved a hand down his pants to touch himself, and pulled Dick forward, kissing him breathless.

He groaned and nipped at Dick’s bottom lip when Dick curled a hand in his hair, tugging hard.

“How do you wanna do this, baby?” he whispered against Dick’s lips, as one of Dick's warm hands traced reverently over his bare chest.

Dick pulled back. “Let’s. Table. Sit down,” he panted, tugging Jason along behind him out of the kitchen.

He pulled out the closest chair, and pushed Jason down into it, sitting down firmly in his lap, facing the same direction, with one of Jason’s legs between both of his. He turned to the side and pulled Jason’s mouth back to his.

His neck would probably hurt like a bitch later, from the way he had to twist it to kiss him, but he didn’t think straddling Jason would go too well for him.

Jason let out another groan, fingers digging into the sides of the chair as Dick shifted in his lap. “Y’okay, baby?” 

“Mmhm.” Dick twisted his torso further so that he didn’t have to break his fucking neck kissing Jason, and _oh yeah, this was perfect._

He kissed down Jason’s face, and started to work on sucking a bruise under his jaw. His hand dropped back to Jason's chest, tracing lightly down his side, over the crisscrossing scars that littered his skin. 

Jason moaned, tilting his head back as Dick sucked harder on his neck, and bringing a hand up to caress his hip. Dick knocked it away violently on instinct, and they broke apart, both trying to apologize at the same time.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to— just. Don’t touch my front.”

“Okay, baby. I’m sorry. You don’t have to apologize, I should’ve asked.”

Instead of answering, Dick twisted his hand back into Jason’s hair, and pulled him back into a hard kiss. He ground down onto Jason’s lap, sucking on his tongue at the same time.

“ _Oh_ , babe.” Jason broke away again, panting against his cheek, and Dick began kissing wetly back down his neck. Jason’s hands fluttered down to hesitantly rest on his shoulders.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” Dick breathed, rocking his hips back again. Jason groaned.

“You got the lube, baby?”

Dick pulled away, making a frustrated noise. “No. Shit.”

He stumbled to his feet, grabbing the door frame for support, as he swung around the corner into the kitchen, snatching the bottle of olive oil from beside the stove, and setting it down heavily on the table.

Jason raised his eyebrows, but Dick was already climbing back into his lap, kissing his neck.

“I’m not going to go find the fucking lube,” Dick grumbled out between sloppy kisses.

Jason snorted. “Okay baby. C’mere.” 

He slipped a hand into Dick’s hair and brought their lips back together, kissing him deeply.

Dick grabbed Jason’s hand from where it rested on his shoulder, and brought it down to his chest. Jason hesitantly began to tease one of his nipples through his shirt.

“That’s good?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Dick breathed. 

Jason pinched his nipple through his shirt, and Dick made a small, choked noise. "Hold on," he said, standing up and stripping himself efficiently, impatiently, and fumbling with the bottle of olive oil.

Jason started to take off his pants, but Dick stopped him.

“Leave them on. I want you to fuck me in them.”

Jason obligingly removed his hands from his waistband, looking slightly dazed. Yeah, Dick had always found him easy to impress.

Dick twisted the cap off of the oil, and started to pour a little into his palm, before Jason interrupted him.

“Can I finger you open, baby?”

Dick paused. “Yeah. Just...don’t touch anywhere else.”

Jason agreed, and Dick sat back down, tilting his hand to pour the small pool of oil into Jason’s palm. He started kissing him again, as he slowly wiped his palm over Jason’s fingers, massaging it into the skin, and rocking back in his lap.

“ _Fuck_ baby, that’s hot,” he gasped.

Like Dick had said: easily impressed.

The truth of the matter was, Jason was not, objectively speaking, easily impressed at all. He _was_ , however, very, _very_ much into Dick, and he would be dazzled by his boyfriend if he damn well pleased — nobody was gonna catch him regretting a goddamn thing about it.

Dick scooted himself forward a bit on Jason’s legs so he was no longer directly in his lap, spreading his legs to wrap around Jason’s and holding onto his shoulder for balance.

“That’s alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, babydoll.” 

Jason kissed the back of Dick’s neck as he reached down to rub a finger at his entrance, and Dick let his head fall back with a breathy sigh.

“Still good, baby?”

“Yeah. Come on,” Dick responded impatiently, trying to push his ass down harder against Jason’s fingers.

“Alright, angel. Patience.” 

Jason continued kissing over the back of Dick’s neck, and laved his tongue over the spot where his neck turned into his shoulder, smoothly sliding his middle finger inside Dick as he began to suck on the skin there.

Dick bit his lip against the ungodly noise that wanted to come out of him when Jason twisted his hand around, and rubbed the pad of his finger against his prostate, still sucking a vivid mark onto his neck.

Dick squirmed, his hips bucking slightly forward, and he felt Jason grin against him. He started to thrust his finger slowly, repeatedly pushing back up to massage his prostate.

“You like that, babycakes?”

“Yeah, _god_ , more. Give me more.”

Jason obliged, adding another finger. He tilted Dick’s head to the side with his other hand, and grazed his teeth over Dick’s jaw, continuing to thrust his fingers.

He left a small trail of kisses and bites up to his ear, and then gently bit the lobe, sucking on it.

“Perfect, Dickie,” he murmured, and slipped his tongue over the sensitive spot behind Dick’s ear. “You're so perfect.”

Jason’s voice was low and husky, and it sent shivers down Dick’s spine, which he tried desperately to suppress. He felt Jason start to scissor his fingers inside him, and he spread his legs wider, grinding against them.

“God, just look at you, baby,” Jason moaned, continuing to kiss behind his ear, occasionally slipping his tongue out. He slid his hand into the back of Dick’s hair, stroking through it and massaging the scalp. “So gorgeous.”

He honestly sounded breathless, utterly enthralled, and that more than anything was what got to Dick. 

He let out a small noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and Jason groaned deeply, slowly pushing in a third finger.

“Could come just like this, baby. Just watching you riding my fingers, making those little noises.” 

Dick pulled him into a bruising kiss. God, when Jason got like this — incredibly flattering, and complimentary, and _awed_ — it was hard to handle. 

He just sounded so earnest, and it was a bit difficult for Dick to understand how he could just come out and say all those things like _that_ , and sound sincere. Dick knew he was far from perfect, but Jason sounded so convinced it kind of hurt a little to listen to.

It was flattering, yes, and hot, but it also made Dick feel slightly insecure. There was only so much honest flattery he could take before he started to feel like some sort of fake. Like he was somehow tricking Jason into thinking he was actually so much more than he was.

It wasn't that he thought he was _un_ attractive, it was just...there were so many _flaws_ that had to take away from it all. 

“Oh fuck, sugar,” Jason panted, pulling his hand from Dick’s hair to urgently palm his own erection. “You’re _too_ good.” He kissed his lips again lightly. “Just _look_ at you,” he breathed, half to himself.

But shit, even with his doubts, Dick _felt_ sexy. How could he not believe it, even just a little, just for the moment, when Jason was looking at him like he was the best goddamn thing he’d ever seen?

Jason spread his fingers inside Dick, twisting them to go as deep as possible, and Dick’s eyes slammed shut, his hips stuttering forward.

“ _Ohh_ god, come on, fuck me, _fuck me_.”

“Yeah?” Jason asked, teasingly, as he took his hand away from his cock, reaching for the bottle of oil and trying to unscrew it one handed. “What was it you wanted, baby?”

He finally managed to get some of the oil on his hand, and his lips twitched. He couldn’t hold back the tiny laugh that came out of him — this was so fucking stupid. He still couldn’t believe they were using the goddamn _cooking oil_ that he used for fucking _omelettes_ and shit, when they had shit tons of perfectly good lube in the bedroom.

So why had he not just stopped and grabbed it? Oh right, because he couldn’t say no to Dick for the _life_ of him.

Dick pouted at Jason’s teasing, and Jason swore his goddamn heart _fluttered_. Holy _shit_ he was so in love with him.

He leaned in for another slow, soft kiss.

“Fucking dick,” Dick huffed, and Jason laughed again, pulling his cock out of his pants and spreading the oil over it.

“Not yet, I’m not, baby.”

Dick groaned and rolled his eyes at the corny pun — shit, he'd walked straight into that one. “You're the _worst_.” 

Jason continued stroking himself, and made a small motion with the fingers still inside Dick. “Yeah? I am?”

Dick bit back an entirely different type of groan. “Fuck. Yes, you are, now fuck me already.”

“I dunno baby,” he drawled, kissing his neck and working the fingers inside him. “Doesn’t sound like that’s what you really want, since I’m being the worst, and all.”

Dick choked on a breath. _God_ that was good.

“Don’t make me fucking beg, Jay.”

“Hmm, sounds kinda hot though,” Jason laughed, but he was already easing his fingers out.

“C’mon, lift up a bit.” He boosted Dick’s bum up, and Dick held onto the back of the chair for balance. Jason lined himself up, and Dick slowly eased himself down.

“ _Babydoll_ ,” Jason gasped, running his hands down Dick’s arms. “You okay?”

“Mmhm.” Dick rolled his hips, and...now that he was already here, the idea started to creep in that perhaps the same thing would happen again as the night he’d shattered the glass in the bathroom.

Dick swore on any and all things holy and divine that if he’d gotten this fucking far and crashed _right_ before coming again, he was gonna burn down the whole apartment building.

“Fuckin’ amazing, Dickie,” Jason sighed. He trailed a still slightly oiled hand over one of Dick’s nipples, teasing it, and Dick arched into it. “Feel good?”

“Uh huh. Fuck, kiss me.”

Jason did just that, kissing him hard and rolling his hips up against him. Dick broke away to let his head fall back onto Jason's shoulder.

"Yeah, _god_ , missed this," he panted.

"Yeah?" Jason asked. "Can't handle a whole week without getting fucked?"

Dick cringed. "N— please don't. Don't call me a slut," he said quietly, and Jason froze.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean it like that. Really, I'm not calling you a slut." There was silence for a beat. "Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm fine, really," he said, eyes shut tight. Against what, he didn't know — the thoughts, probably. Not that it helped. "Come on, if I don't come sometime in the next half hour I'll probably spontaneously implode," he joked, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere.

Jason kissed his neck and slowly, _slowly_ rolled his hips. "I don't think that about you, you know," he said. "I would never."

The earnestness of it made something in Dick's chest ache, like a bad wound being kissed 'all better'.

"It's fine," he breathed. "I know." He ground his ass back down against Jason. "It's fine."

He kissed him again so Jason couldn't keep apologizing and circled his hips, making Jason groan deep and fuck back up against him. 

Dick wondered at how much being loved could feel like heartbreak.

They finished like that, slow and quiet; and, stronger than the orgasm itself, Dick felt relief flowing through his veins, sweetly permeating everything. They were going to be okay, they could make it through this. Now, thankfully, _thankfully_ , he had proof that his body wasn't broken.

He poured his relief into his kisses, kissing Jason long after he felt him start to soften inside him. And when he finally pulled back, Jason was still right there, staring at him like he'd hung the goddamn moon.

"I love you," Dick felt compelled to say. "God I love you _so_ much."

"I know," Jason whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. "I know, I love you too."

Eventually, Dick got uncomfortable enough to try to stand on still-shaky legs, and Jason finally slid out of him. He thought he should probably take a shower — perhaps using olive oil hadn't been his _best_ idea, as he felt sticky and greasy now — but as soon as he stepped forward, he felt Jason's hands lightly catch at his waist.

"This okay?" he asked, settling his hands on Dick's hips.

"Mhm, I need to clean up though."

Jason had been unashamedly staring at his ass, his thumbs drawing distracted little circles on the small of Dick's back. He wrenched his eyes up to meet Dick's and unconsciously licked his lips.

"Wouldn't want you to drip on the carpet now, would we?" he finally said. " _I_ can clean you up...if you wanted."

"Seriously?" He could feel something — possibly excess oil, possibly something else — beginning to make it's way slowly down his thigh, and he shifted uncomfortably.

Jason's eyes tracked it making its way down. "Yeah, seriously. That's hot." He carefully trailed his hands down the sides of Dick's thighs, stopping the trail with his thumb and pushing it back up a few inches, before looking back up to check that Dick was alright.

"Go for it. Just…don't touch anything else," Dick said. He probably should have expected this would happen — he didn't really understand the single-minded _fixation_ Jason seemed to have with come sometimes, but, well...he didn't really _have_ to _understand_. He wasn't here to be judgy about it.

Dick ended up face down on the carpet, his arms having given up on the whole hands-and-knees idea at some point. The 'saving the carpet' excuse was a bit moot at this point, with all the pre-come that his cock was leaking onto it, but he found he didn't really care. He sincerely doubted Jason did either.

Jason was appropriately careful about not touching elsewhere too, and Dick was relieved he didn't even test the waters by touching his perineum or his balls like he normally would. He honestly had no idea when things would go from okay to bad, and he didn't particularly want to find that line. 

Dick rocked back against his face, tightening the hand which had at some point found its way into Jason's hair. Jason groaned against him and shoved his tongue deeper.

"Oh fuck Jay," he gasped softly, before biting his lip hard against the moan that wanted to come out as Jason lapped against him.

"Can I slap your ass baby?" Jason murmured, pulling back slightly. Dick released the death grip on his hair, and Jason sat back, running his hands up over his ass and then down over the outside of his hips.

"Go ahead."

Jason's hand came down on one cheek with a satisfying smack. It barely stung, but still, he ran his hand soothingly over the area and pressed a kiss to it.

"You're really enjoying this, huh? Gonna come again?"

Dick's laugh turned into a sigh of pleasure as Jason licked over him again.

He let him continue for a few more minutes, before slowly pulling him away with a hand in his hair, and rolling onto his side. He held out his hand to Jason to pull him up toward his face.

"No shit I'm enjoying it," he finally responded. "Your tongue is fucking unparalleled." He threaded his fingers through the back of Jason's hair, and pulled his face closer to kiss along his jaw. "But no, I don't think a second round's gonna happen." He was turned on still, and it felt amazing, but just this was enough, he didn't feel the need to get off again.

Dick glanced down at Jason's obvious erection. "You want me to help you out though?"

Jason shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."

Dick caught his lips and kissed him, and Jason trailed a hand up from his hip to his waist. "This alright?" he mumbled against his mouth.

"Mhm," Dick said, kissing him again.

They ended up staying there, on the floor, kissing slowly for the whole afternoon.


	7. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING Chapter Contains:** Explicit Sexual Content
> 
>  _Skip from when Dick walks away from the dealer until the next break (_ ◇◇◇ _) if you don't wish to read_

As relieved as Dick was to have finally worked things out in his sex life, the rest of the repercussions from That Night weren't solved so easily.

He gritted his teeth as Tim once again talked around the point of a sexual assault case, as if hearing the straight facts would make Dick explode. And Tim was far from the only one — the whole family had been continuing to treat him differently, treading extra lightly around him.

They were somehow getting even _worse_ about everything, and it was making him feel like he was _really_ gonna lose it.

He didn't, though. He took deep breaths and counted to ten in his head before responding — if he even _had_ to. He'd taken to just ignoring everyone for the most part. Just take it day by day, he told himself. Day by day.

◇◇◇

"So," Stephanie said, plopping herself down on Tim's sofa next to his feet. "Let's talk about Tarantula."

Tim shut the laptop resting on his stomach, and let his head fall back against the armrest. "Too much is speculation; I don't like it. Sure, I found out all sorts of _non-relevant_ things, but cold hard facts about stuff to do with Dick? There isn't a lot that's useful."

"Well tell me what you have, and we'll work from there."

Tim heaved out a sigh, and dragged a hand over his face. "Alright. Catalina was Blüdhaven-based — grew up there before she went into the FBI — took up vigilantism as the second Tarantula not too terribly long after quitting and coming back to the city. She was like Hood, no problem killing, blah blah, you know this. Dick as Nightwing got her arrested for killing the corrupt Chief of Police, she got let off (thanks to her brother who was the Assistant D.A.), and then she ganged up with Blockbuster against Nightwing as revenge."

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Then Babs and Dick split and Babs was all jealous over her… Admittedly I don't know _too_ much about that situation, but whatever, she was definitely a part of it even if she wasn't the whole reason. Babs said that Tarantula kissed Dick at some point and she got pretty pissy over it, but she didn't tell me what she said. Didn't really sound like Dick had control over it either."

"Yikes," Staphanie said.

"I know, right? So then at some point after Blockbuster tried to have someone blow Dick to bits with that bomb, at some point she decided to team up with Nightwing. This was when Blockbuster was really going in targeting everyone around Dick, and he knew his secret identity and...yeah, _that_ whole mess. 

"So I guess Catalina gave up on her revenge for the murder charge? Who knows. Maybe Babs and Dick breaking up was part of her plan."

Stephanie raised an eyebrow.

"Think about it, maybe Catalina was getting between them on purpose and trying to, uhh, win Dick's affections for herself." Get into his pants, more like, but maybe he shouldn't say that. "I mean, she _did_ kiss him in front of Babs." He paused. "He really attracts the morally grey ones, doesn't he? I think Babs is like the only one _not_ …" he trailed off. " _Anyway_ , back on topic: (but see this is what I mean about a bunch of shit being all speculation, though), but anyway, Catalina teamed up with 'Wing against Blockbuster. 

"They got a taped confession from him — this was all in Dick's case files — and somehow this confession got destroyed? All it said was 'recording was destroyed'. Don't know how, or why the hell he didn't make a _copy_ , but whatever. Then—"

He cut off when there was a knock at the door.

"Did you order food?" Stephanie asked.

"No…" 

He put his closed laptop on the coffee table and heaved himself up to standing, walking to the door and peering through the peephole. "Huh. It's Damian," he said. He had no idea what the hell _he_ was doing here.

"I know you're in there, Drake," Damian said through the door.

"He's not gonna go away if you ignore him, might as well let him in," Stephanie said.

Tim sighed, but unlocked the door and opened it. "Why are you here?" he asked, as Damian shoved past him into the flat.

"Oh good, Batgirl is already here. I know you two are working on The Case. I want in on whatever you dug up on Tarantula, and I want in with Oracle, Signal, and Black Bat on anything about The Woman. I know you're all in on it," he said assertively.

Tim blinked, and slowly shut the door. "Uhh." He looked over to Stephanie, who just shrugged, as if to say 'why not?'. 

Damian crossed his arms.

"Okay, I guess. I was most of the way through, but I guess I'll start over. Sorry Steph."

She shrugged again.

Tim sat back down on the sofa, and started again from the beginning as Damian settled into the armchair.

"So yeah, that's basically where I was at when you barged in. After the recording was destroyed, Nightwing and Tarantula faced off with Blockbuster, and she shot and killed him. Now _this_ is the closest thing I have to evidence (and even this is a stretch because I just don't know enough), but in Dick's case file, he wrote 'my fault' after he said Blockbuster was dead. Obviously that's not an especially distinctive phrase, and Dick has a guilt complex miles wide, but I thought that's what I heard him saying when Jay was trying to get him to wake up. It may be nothing, but it's literally all we have to go on."

"You really weren't kidding when you said everything relevant is complete speculation," Stephanie said, looking deep in thought. "So you think it happened after that? Or maybe right before? And maybe that's why he ended up not stopping her from shooting him?"

"I have no idea. I just think it's certainly a possibility. One of many. Or it could be completely irrelevant and it happened at a whole other time. Actually, we don't know for sure if it was even an isolated incident — he just said 'Tarantula' when Jay asked — that could mean anything." He frowned. "And he _did_ imply Babs broke up with him because of it, so maybe it happened before they broke up. Babs said she didn't know about it if anything like that happened while they were together, and that it definitely wasn't why they broke up. She wouldn't have necessarily known though."

"Hmm," Damian said. "So what happened after Tarantula killed Blockbuster?" 

"The next thing I found involving her was her facing off against Copperhead, and Nightwing saving her ass, which makes me think that maybe nothing _did_ happen yet, but then again, it's Dick so he might've gone out of his way to save her anyway. Then a little while after that was when Bruce got involved because Dick was apparently getting ready to sign a marriage license with her, which, as me and the others discussed That Night, also doesn't necessarily mean nothing had happened yet. But again," he said frustratedly, "there's really no way to know and everything is fucking speculation."

Stephanie let her head fall back against the back of the couch and sighed. "So we really have basically nothing."

"Basically," Tim agreed. "The only other thing relating to Nightwing after that was Dick turning them both in for killing Blockbuster, which she got locked up for. And that's it."

"Great," Damian said. "So we're literally no further than before. What about The Woman? What did you find regarding her?"

"That I was going to wait until I could talk to _everybody_ about. Not that there's a whole lot to say."

Damain huffed. "Well get everybody over here then."

Tim rolled his eyes, but reached for his mobile. 

◇◇◇

They ended up all meeting at Barbara's place.

"So, like I said before," Tim said, "The Woman's name is Irene O'Leary, and she lives about five minutes from Gotham General. Her only living relation is her father, Ephram Davies — looks like she has her deceased mother's last name. She teaches self-defense classes at a studio downtown, which explains why she even bothered fighting Dick. 

"Onto the actually relevant stuff: she was dating Matthew Scribner, an ER nurse at the hospital, for just over two years. They split recently and she's pissed about it, not very subtle on her Facebook and Twitter that she hates him now. Classic _'if I can't have you, then nobody can'_ idea.

"The question now is what do we do about her? Unless we catch her going after Scribner again, we can't exactly get the cops to arrest her."

"Hm," Barbara said. "The obvious thing to do would be to keep an eye on Scribner and wait until she tries again, but there's always the possibility that maybe she _won't_ try again, and what do we do in that case? How long do we give it before deciding she's not going to try again?"

"I vote we threaten her," Stephanie said.

Cass tilted her head, considering the pros and cons of the idea.

"So do I," Damian agreed. "But that's not enough. She needs to be brought to justice."

"How about we take turns watching over Scribner, and if she doesn't do anything in two weeks, we reconvene and decide what to do from there?" Duke said.

Stephanie sat back, crossing her arms. "Fine. But I still vote we threaten her in the meantime."

◇◇◇

Dick had _finally_ found a good lead on the main distributor of the new street drug — called _'Sifra'_ — making its way through Blüdhaven. The downside was that he had to go undercover and try to "accidentally" bump into one of his dealers at a certain club well known for its lax rules on public indecency.

Upon research, he'd found that the drug was named after the fairy city of gold; and Dick thought the creator must either be a massive folklore nerd, or someone who fancied themselves a friend of the fae. In any case, it was an appropriate name for a drug that purportedly made the user look on everything with new, awed eyes — as if every person and broken bottle and cigarette butt they stumbled across was made of gold. 

It was especially popular in the club called The Dragon's Lair, because apparently taking a pill and grabbing the first stranger that caught your over-awed eyes led to the most mind-blowingly spectacular sex one could imagine. And with The Lair being the only club around that allowed the patrons to indiscriminately fuck each other against the wall, it was a natural fit. Dick would just take their word on it really being _that_ spectacular — maybe as a fantasy it sounded hot, but the idea of _actually_ having sex while high, especially with a random _stranger_ , freaked him the hell out. It would be putting oneself in such a horribly vulnerable position and...no, just no.

Dick really wasn't looking forward to the crushing bodies and wandering hands he was going to have to deal with in the club, but he'd done it plenty of times for cases before, and he'd surely do it again. 

He was going to have to pretend to take the Sifra too, or else he'd seem suspicious. That was where Jason came in, thankfully. He'd graciously offered to meet up with him and play the part of willing stranger after Dick pretended to take the pill.

 _Now_ Dick's task was just finding something appropriately revealing to wear, and for that he'd have to head to the Cave, because he didn't have _nearly_ as much disguise material as Bruce did.

He was relieved to find the Cave empty when he arrived, and he set about looking through the disguise lockers without worry of judgemental eyes.

He found a pair of tight leather pants and a mesh crop top easily enough, and then — by _far_ his favorite contribution to the outfit — a pair of amazingly eye-watering platform boots. They were bright white with a zipper up the front and two cuffs that secured across the zipper, and then the real draw: four inch platforms entirely covered in tiny mirrored squares like a disco ball.

Once he'd gotten everything on, Dick started working on applying body glitter. Truthfully, he kind of liked wearing body glitter and he thought it was a shame that it wasn't more socially acceptable for skin to be shimmery and iridescent at all times.

He waved his free hand in the air to dry his glittery black nail varnish as he applied eyeliner and lip gloss, and he was working on the final touch of teasing his hair when he heard distant chattering voices. He turned around to see Tim and Duke making their way across the Cave, deep in conversation.

Tim spotted him first, and his eyes widened comically.

"Undercover," Dick explained, unnecessarily, turning back to the mirror. _Duh. Of course_ he was dressed like this for going undercover.

He saw Tim and Duke exchange a look in the background of his reflection.

"You...sure that's a good idea?" Duke asked hesitantly.

Dick narrowed his eyes and backcombed his hair with more force than really necessary as he bit his tongue against the _'Fuck you'_ that wanted to come out. "I've been going undercover in clubs for over a decade. Why wouldn't it be a good idea?" 

He knew _exactly_ why they thought it wasn't a good idea, but he was bitter about it and tired of their stupid pity, and he wanted to make them say it.

"Just...you know," Tim said, making a vague gesture.

"I _don't_ know, actually," he said, slapping the comb down onto the side of the sink and turning back to them, crossing his arms. "Please, enlighten me."

They were saved from answering by Bruce coming out of the elevator. He took one look at Dick and immediately headed toward them. "Absolutely not."

Dick's eyebrows shot up. " _Excuse me?_ " 

"Absolutely not," Bruce repeated, unrepentant. "Whatever case this is for, someone else can take it. _I'll_ take it."

"No you will _not_ ," Dick said, affronted. "I'm almost thirty fucking years old — you don't get to tell me what cases I can and cannot do! It's a Blüdhaven case anyway, and I'm more than capable of handling it."

"Dick, you really shouldn't be—"

"I can do whatever I damn well please, thanks." Dick snapped, and then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose (an annoying habit which he knew he'd picked up from Bruce), softening his tone. Bruce was just worried about him, he knew, and it came out as controlling because he was _Bruce_ , but he _did_ care. It was still obnoxious though. "Jay is meeting me there, I'm not going in alone."

"Stay on the comms at least," Bruce pleaded.

"No Bruce, I'm going to be in a club, you wouldn't be able to hear anything anyway." He looked up at the three of them — four now, he realized. Cass had come in at some point. "I'm keeping the comm off, but I'll wear it for the panic button," he relented.

Bruce nodded. "Thank you."

Cassandra signed, "Be careful!" at him, and Dick tried to take that in the spirit it was meant rather than getting upset.

◇◇◇

The air in the club was hazy, and Dick could feel the bass thumping in his bones as he blindly danced against random people, slowly making his way toward the back hallway where he knew the dealer would be. He'd spotted Jason already nursing a drink at the bar, ready to follow him over when the time came.

A hand felt up his ass, and somebody else — a young woman who was now grinding against the side of his thigh — trailed a hand over his chest. He bit his tongue and stuffed down his automatic urge to slap the wandering hands away, continuing to move forward through the sweaty crush of bodies. God he really hated clubs sometimes.

There was hardly any respite before a new pair of hands caught at his hips from behind and someone ground forward against his ass for a moment before he managed to pull himself away, swaying his hips toward another faceless body. He was almost to the back hallway now.

The pulsing lights roved through the crowd, and suddenly all the writhing bodies around him were lit up green, little bright pinpricks of light reflecting off of the glitter on their skin.

He slid his way past a large man covered in leather straps. _Almost there_. He was immediately pushed uncomfortably close against another body, the full length of them pressing against him, slick with sweat and gritty with glitter. _Just a few feet more and then he would be out of reach of the awful crush_ — 

A hand grabbed his chin, and suddenly he found himself staring into the face of the tall, purple-haired woman he was pressed against, who pulled his face down and sealed their lips together before he could back away. His stomach plummeted painfully, but he tried his best to take it good-naturedly, managing to make himself give her a grin and a wink before sidling away. His hand twitched with the impulse to wipe his mouth.

He really wanted this stupid case to be over already.

"Hey pretty boy, you looking to score something?" a man leaning half in the shadows asked, when Dick finally broke free of the crowd, looking around conspicuously.

Dick forced a winning smile onto his face. "Hey there," he said in a flirty voice. "You gotta know I'm here for the Sifra — who isn't?"

The dealer winked at him. "It's a real hit. Best sex I've ever had."

"I know right? How much for two?"

"Ten for you, sweetcheeks. Free if you wanna ride out the high with me."

Ugh, what a sleazebag.

Dick threw his head back and laughed as if delighted by the attention, laying a hand on the man's arm. "Wouldn't want to distract you from work." 

He fished out a couple of bills from his pocket, and the man gave him a small baggie with two white pills in it.

Dick raked his eyes obviously over the man's body. "You _are_ a cutie though. Any chance I can find you somewhere else? If I wanted to take you up on that offer some other time somewhere more...quiet?"

The man grinned and pulled out a sharpie, scrawling an address on Dick's arm. "Ask for Teddy and nobody should give you any trouble."

Dick beamed and kissed him on the corner of the mouth. "Thanks babe, I'll definitely be seeing you."

He turned and started walking away, suppressing a shudder; he felt like he needed a shower now, but at least he had another lead. He opened the baggie, pretending to pop one of the pills, before stuffing it in his back pocket.

Dick spotted Jason dancing at the edge of the crowd a few feet away, and he headed toward the wall nearest him.

He leaned back against the wall and let his eyes go hazy for a long minute, before opening them wide and putting on his best awestruck expression. He could still feel the dealer's eyes on him, although it was probably from attraction rather than suspicion. Whatever the reason, he'd still have to give a good show.

Dick's arm shot out as Jason danced closer to him, and he pulled him close, right up against him. 

He felt his body immediately relax once Jason was pressed to him, and he inhaled deeply, catching the familiar scent of gun oil and leather that clung to his skin under the light sheen of sweat. Finally, he was in safe hands.

"Hey handsome," he shouted over the pounding music, a genuine smile finally breaking over his face. One of his hands slid over Jason's bare chest, his thumb catching the edge of his makeup-covered autopsy scars. Familiar. Safe. Undeniably _Jason_.

Jason looked him over slowly. "Hey yourself. Nice touch," he said, popping the waistband of the bright Nightwing-blue lace panties peeking over the top of his low-slung leather pants. His eyes slid up again. "God, your _hair_ — I gotta get my hands in that." His hand moved up to bury itself in Dick's messy, touchable curls. "You look so fucking hot, baby."

"Thanks." Dick fished the pill bag back out of his pocket and held it up. Jason grinned and took it, pretending to pop a pill, and shoving the bag back into Dick's back pocket. He left his hand there and squeezed Dick's ass, pulling their hips together and burying his other hand back in Dick's hair. He had cleverly angled his body so it looked like they were grinding, but he was only grinding against Dick's hip, not touching his cock, much to his relief.

Dick pulled his head forward by the back of the neck to talk in his ear. "Thanks Jay." 

He was kind of digging the height on these boots — he was just a hair shorter than Jason in them and it was fun to have a slightly different vantage point.

"Anytime, baby. How we doing this?"

"Just gonna make out and grind against each other 'til we reach a spectacular finish." He rolled his hips, letting his eyes fall shut and his head fall back against the wall, faking bliss and opening his mouth in a silent moan.

"Got it," Jason said, before thrusting against his hip and starting to kiss down his throat.

Dick pulled Jason's mouth to his with an insistent hand, and then they were kissing fervently, dirty and open-mouthed, again and again. He slid his tongue deep against Jason's, pushing his thigh forward against his crotch and canting his hips. Jason groaned deeply, and he felt the reverberation in his mouth as their kisses deepened and slowed.

Jason pulled back for a second, panting, and Dick could see his lipgloss smeared messily over Jason's mouth. Hot. Dick pulled him back in with a hand clenched in his hair, tugging on it hard. Jason moaned again, and Dick felt him starting to harden against his hip.

He couldn't help the small laugh that came out of him, and he broke away again to shout in Jason's ear. 

"Are you getting hard?"

"Of course I'm getting hard," he shouted back. "You look like sex on legs and you're kissing me _like that_."

Dick let out another blissful fake moan, and rubbed his thigh harder against Jason.

"Fuck babe." Jason kissed him again.

It didn't take too terribly long before Dick could tell Jason was getting close, and he decided to fake his own climax. He ground forward hard and threw his head back, eyes clenched shut and chest heaving, riding Jason's leg through it.

When Dick opened his eyes, Jason's pupils were blown wide, and Dick watched him unconsciously lick at his sticky, lipgloss-smeared lips as he leaned forward. " _Fuck_ you're gonna kill me. _Gorgeous_ ," he rasped in Dick's ear, his warm hand running up and down the side of Dick's bare waist.

Dick's mouth tilted up in a wicked grin, and he watched Jason from under his lashes as he reached down and popped the button on Jason's tight jeans, taking him in his hand. Jason's hips hitched forward as he jerked him off, fucking into his hand and grinding against it with his head tipped back in ecstasy. His blunt fingernails dug in where he gripped the back of Dick's neck and the curve of his waist, and his eyes were shut tightly, mouth open on pornographic sounds lost to the pounding music.

"Fuck, Dick." His slick lips shaped the words soundlessly.

Dick squeezed his hand and rubbed his thumb over the head, and Jason's hips stuttered. He pitched forward and latched onto Dick's neck, kissing and sucking, thrusting into Dick's hand and against his stomach, his hand spasming in its grip before smoothing down his throat, his shoulder, his chest.

And then Jason was coming, teeth sinking in against his skin, and a whine in the back of his throat.

Just as he did so, Dick saw the dealer disappearing out the back door from the corner of his eye. 

"Jay, we gotta go. Dealer just left," he shouted in his ear, Jason's face still buried in the crook of his neck. Dick petted the back of his neck soothingly, tucking him back in and zipping him up one-handed. He looked down and quickly wiped the stripes of come off of both of their stomachs with his hand.

"Fuck. Okay," Jason groaned after a second, pulling back and standing up straight with effort, his eyes still glazed and his lips swollen. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it and wiped the back of his free hand over his mouth, letting Dick tug him along by the hand toward the exit. 

Dick looked around for something to wipe his messy hand on, and noticed a few people who had clearly been enjoying their little show still watching them with hungry eyes. Dick licked his hand instead of wiping it off — more to watch their faces than anything else.

He didn't mind being watched like that as long as it was on his terms and Jason was the only one touching him. It was nice to feel sexy sometimes without feeling used and dirty. And in all honesty it was a little bit of a power trip to see the wanting in their eyes and know that that was all they were allowed, that there was no hope in hell of them getting to live out whatever fantasies he was starring in in their minds.

Jason groaned as he licked his hand. "You're gonna fucking kill me," he repeated.

Luckily, even with his head start, they managed to tail the dealer. Even luckier, he led them to the distributor, apparently picking up more pills to take back to the club.

Dick counted it as a very successful night. See? He'd handled the case just fine. The rest of the bats were just being overprotective.

◇◇◇

Dick finally reached a boiling point that weekend and decided he just couldn't handle patrol or being on the comms with the rest of the family. Couldn't handle their awkwardness around him, and worse, their _pity_.

Jason stayed home from patrol with him, deciding they should have a night to themselves.

For a bit, Dick thought it was just what he'd needed. For a bit. And then it all went south.

He supposed it wasn’t much of a surprise when he finally blew up at Jason too. It had been months since they'd had any sort of big fight, and with Dick already constantly on edge with how the whole family had been walking on eggshells around him...yeah. It wasn’t much of a surprise.

He had put Jason’s hand on his cock, and Jason had, of course, gone through his whole ‘Are you sure?’ and, ‘Tell me and I’ll stop if you don’t like it anymore,’ speech. 

Dick had wrenched his hands off, and rolled away onto his back, fuming.

He had appreciated Jason always saying things like that at first, and on some level he still did, but he was just _so goddamn tired_ of everyone treating him with kid gloves. They all acted like he was a fucking ticking time bomb who would go off at the slightest wrong move, and he was just _sick of it_.

“Jesus _fucking_ christ, Jason! _I know!_ Stop treating me like a scared fucking child!”

Jason started to respond, but Dick cut him off angrily.

“No. I’m a big boy, okay?” he spat. “I’m capable of fucking telling you if I don’t like something instead of just laying there and letting it fucking happen like some weak little _bitch_.” Oh, and _there_ was the self-loathing. He pushed himself up out of the bed.

“ _Dick_ ,” Jason said softly, but Dick was already storming out of the room, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

He angrily turned on the water. Shower. He would take a shower and calm down. A perfectly fine middle-of-the-night activity. He didn’t have to think about this.

He ignored the way his hands shook as he tried to adjust the temperature to something that wouldn’t immediately send his body into cardiac arrest from shock, and he focused on trying to regulate his breathing.

Twenty minutes later, Dick stood in the hallway in front of the open linen closet, carefully drying himself off with a towel.

He quietly went back into the room, which was now dark, tossing the towel vaguely at the hamper and picking up his sleep shirt and boxers from the floor, slipping them back on.

Jason was all the way on the far side of the bed, leaving a couple feet of space for Dick. He was laying on his side, facing the door, and his eyes were closed, but Dick could tell he was still wide awake.

Dick sighed, crawling under the covers, and turning away from him.

They laid there in silence for several long, heavy minutes, and Dick started to feel his frustration mount again as Jason stayed exactly where he was, still clearly just as awake as Dick.

“ _God_ , just touch me,” Dick burst out, reaching back to grab Jason’s hand, and pulling it over his stomach. And, oh, he _hated_ how his voice shook. He hated even more how he felt his tears finally spill over.

Fuck, it made him feel like such a crybaby, but he’d always been a frustrated crier, and no amount of resentment toward it was gonna stop that now.

“Just touch me like you actually _want_ to.”

“ _Baby_ ,” Jason sighed. He scooted closer until he was up against Dick, spooning him, and he traced his fingers over his collarbones. 

“I _do_ wanna touch you. I _always_ want to touch you. God, you’re so gorgeous. Sweet. Smart. _Strong_ ," he paused. "And you're _incredibly_ fucking sexy. You drive me crazy, Dickiebird,” he murmured. 

Shit. He hadn’t meant to make Dick feel un _wanted_. The idea that Jason could ever _not_ want him was so far out of the realm of Jason’s possibility it was almost laughable. Almost. “But I want you to be comfortable. I just wanna make sure you feel safe, okay?” 

Jason kissed the back of his neck gently before continuing. “I love you so much, and the thought of hurting you just breaks my fucking heart. I just wanna make sure I never do that. I don’t check in ‘cause I think you’re weak, baby — I’d never think that — I just know it can be hard to say something sometimes. I know bodies don’t always cooperate, and sometimes you can’t make them do what you want, and I just wanted to make sure you could say something if you needed.”

Dick swallowed hard. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I just...everyone is treating me like glass, and it’s just _hard_ , okay? I’m tired, and I’m not really okay, but this makes me feel like a child, like I’m not really in control of anything.”

Jason kissed his neck again. “Okay baby.”

He swiped his thumb under each of Dick’s eyes, brushing away the tears, before returning his hand to his chest. 

“I can’t do much about everybody else, but how about I just let you put my hands where you want them? And if I do something you don’t like, I’ll trust you to let me know. Can you just promise me that you’ll find a way to tell me? Or push me away?”

Dick nodded. “Okay. I promise.” He placed his hand over Jason’s, intertwining their fingers.

Jason shifted even closer against him, pressing his knees right up behind Dick’s, and tangling their feet together.

"Can we...can we make a safe word? It would make me feel better, just in case you can't say much, or—" Jason hesitantly spoke up again.

"If you really want. Uh...mallard?"

"I would _love_ to know how the hell your mind works that 'mallard' was the first thing you thought of," Jason laughed. "But yeah, that'll work great."

" _I_ don't even know how my mind works half the time, so let me know when you figure it out."

"Will do." Jason's small smile morphed into a yawn, and he dropped another kiss on the back of Dick's neck. “I love you baby.”

Dick twisted his head to kiss him briefly on the lips.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to interrupt the flow of the fic, but I just HAD to say, that those [boots](https://images.app.goo.gl/VBa8spcwHcZFE7Bp6) I have Dick wearing are 100% real and I absolutely had to put him in them as soon as I saw them.
> 
> You cannot tell me the man who wore [this](https://images.app.goo.gl/hkyMLmenJpjdxUyx8), [this](https://images.app.goo.gl/Ncg3MQ2yESeypdXPA), [THIS](https://images.app.goo.gl/S2NkrTrP5V8qHhZD6) would not be utterly DELIGHTED by those shoes and jump at the chance to wear them.


	8. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING Chapter Contains:** Rape/Sexual Assault and Graphic Violence
> 
> Extreme caution is advised

The next night, Dick was doing a few quick stretches on a rooftop in Blüdhaven. He'd managed to wrap up the Sifra case, but he'd been off his game all night. It wasn't bad enough that he couldn't get the job done, but his muscles had been especially tense and he'd been a bit distracted. It was probably the stress — he hated fighting with Jason, even if they’d settled it quickly.

They were fine now, really, they'd even made out a bit that afternoon, but…Dick couldn’t help still feeling a bit tense.

He rolled his shoulders, and then flexed his legs as he bent down to put his hands flat on the roof, letting out a tired sigh and holding the pose for a count of twenty. It was only about two in the morning, so he still had a couple hours left to get through. He pitched forward into a handstand just for the fun of it, and then let himself fall backward back onto his feet.

He looked back up just in time to see Jason leaping onto the same rooftop as him.

“Red Hood?”

“Hey babydoll,” Jason greeted, sauntering right up to him. 

“What are you doing so far out of your territory?”

“Just wanted to drop by and see you.” 

"All the way in the 'Haven?"

"Mm," Jason hummed his agreement, putting his hands on Dick’s waist. He slowly ran them up and down, crowding him back against the bricks beside the roof access door, but he made no move to take off his helmet.

“Interesting time to stop treating me like glass,” Dick mumbled.

“What was that, babydoll?”

“Nothing, it’s fine. You got the comms already? It’s quiet.”

“Yeah baby, don’t worry about them, I got it.”

Jason began to trail his hand down Dick’s stomach, and his muscles tensed. He gritted his teeth, swallowing the panic that tried to crawl up his throat, and breathed deeply. All he could smell was the sharp tang of sweat and some sort of new aftershave he wasn't familiar with, which did nothing to put him at ease, but he consciously forced himself to relax his muscles. It was fine. This was what he had asked for. 

He trusted Jay, he repeated to himself, as Jason slowly began to rub him through his suit.

◇◇◇

“Red Hood?” Jason heard Dick through the comms as he was taking down a group of thugs.

“Yeah babe?” he answered.

“Hey babydoll,” he heard his own voice reply through Nightwing’s comm, and he froze, his blood running cold. 

“That ain't me,” he said. "Nightwing? That ain't me!"

“What?” Bruce asked. “Oracle, confirm Red Hood and Nightwing’s locations.”

One of the thugs tried to get a quick hit in. Fuck this shit. He knocked the guy back with a foot to the chest, and pulled one of his guns, taking out a kneecap on each of them with four quick, precise pops.

“Hood is still in Crime Alley, and Nightwing’s in Blüdhaven close to the Gotham side.”

" _Hood_ ," Bruce said sternly. "Those shots better not have been you."

Jason ignored him, running back to his motorcycle.

“What are you doing so far out of your territory?” Dick’s voice came through the comm again.

“Just wanted to drop by and see you,” Not-Jason answered.

"All the way in the 'Haven?"

"Mm."

Jason was starting to panic, already kick-starting his bike, leaving the injured thugs in the dust, and taking off toward Blüdhaven. Fuck Bruce's 'no deaths' policy — if those assholes bled out, it wouldn’t be on him. Those had been non-fatal wounds. 

They were trafficking kids anyway, the world wouldn't miss 'em.

“Send me Nightwing’s coordinates now," Jason demanded. "I’m on my way; which one of you is close? Somebody get him backup, I don’t know who the fuck that is.”

“Interesting time to stop treating me like glass,” he heard Dick mumble in his ear.

“ _No_ ,” Jason growled. “ _Who_ is by Nightwing? Get him backup! _Now!_ ”

“What was that, babydoll?” Not-Jason asked.

“Everyone is moving in that direction, Red Hood, and you’re all at least fifteen minutes out,” Barbara snapped. "And that's a very _hopeful_ estimate."

“Nothing, it’s fine. You got the comms already? It’s quiet.”

“Yeah baby, don’t worry about them, I got it.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _no_ ,” Jason swore, as he drove as fast as possible across Gotham, taking a corner too fast and skidding dangerously. “ _Oracle!_ Why aren’t any of us transmitting to his comm?”

“I don’t _know_ , nothing I’m trying is working,” she bit back at him.

"Why'd you cut the input too? I'd like to be able to hear everyone, just in case," Dick hesitantly brought up.

"I can hear them, don't worry about it. Wouldn't want you to be distracted."

"W— Oh. Uh, that's—" he heard Dick start to say over the comms, but the Not-Jason voice cut him off.

"Come on baby, isn't this better?" the voice asked, and he heard Dick's breath hitch, before he moaned quietly. "Stop thinking so hard and just enjoy it."

“ _No_. No nonononono.” The words came out without Jason even noticing he was saying them, in a neverending chant that still didn’t manage to drown out Dick’s comm. Jason hadn’t known he could get more panicked, but he could, he totally could.

“Say my name,” Not-Jason whispered, and Dick’s breath hitched again.

"Hood," he said breathlessly, " _Red Hood_."

Not-Jason was displeased. "No, my _real_ name. Say it."

Dick gave another small, bitten-off moan. “ _Jay_.”

“That’s right babe, just like that.”

◇◇◇

_**That’s right…** _

The words echoed strangely in Dick’s head, and he was suddenly hyper-aware of the rough bricks against his back. His breaths started to turn panicked.

“Wait— wait, stop,” he burst out. “Jay, _stop_ ,” he repeated forcefully, and snatched at Jason’s wrist, halting his movement, but Jason pressed closer against him.

“Shh, baby, come on.”

_**Shh…** _

Dick felt himself start to tremble. “No. Jay, _Jay stop!_ I said stop it!” He twisted Jason’s hand back painfully, forcing it out of his pants and automatically crossing his arms protectively over the waistband of his suit.

“I— I can’t,” he stuttered. He was having trouble catching his breath. “I’m sorry. I'm sorry. I know I said— but. Not like— not on a rooftop, I— I'm sorry. It's too much like Tar—”

“Don’t you love me?”

Dick choked. “What?”

“Don’t you love me?” Jason repeated. “Why won’t you just let me make you feel good, baby?”

“Jay,” Dick’s voice cracked. “Why are you doing this? You know I love you, you _know_ I do."

"Then what's the problem babydoll?"

"I don't— I don't want this right now."

"If you love me, why won't you just trust me to make you feel good? Just _trust me_."

"Why are you doing this?” Dick asked again, weakly. 

His heart felt like it was breaking. He didn’t _understand_ — Jason had seemed completely fine with things before, he’d always been more than fine with stopping. What had changed? 

“Did I do something?”

“I just want to make you feel good. I _want_ you. You’re so gorgeous; just look at you, babydoll.”

“It doesn’t feel good,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “You _told_ me. You told me to tell you if I didn’t like it and you’d _stop_. What did I do?”

"I know what you like, baby. I _know_ you. Trust me. _Let me take care of you_." 

If not for the pounding in his ears, Dick would've _sworn_ his broken heart had stopped altogether.

Jason pushed his thigh firmly against his groin, and he distantly heard himself let out a small, wounded noise at the contact. Dick's head spun. It was all so much, happening too _fast_ — _too much, too fast, too_ ** _much_**. 

And yet it was excruciatingly slow. Slow enough to take in every horrible second and _know_ he'd remember it later.

How was he supposed to— _oh_. "Mallard," Dick blurted out the safe word. Was that what Jason wanted? _He'd_ asked for it; would he only stop if Dick used it? 

" _Mallard_." Dick repeated it, trying not to show how frantic he felt when Jason didn't respond.

"Come on babydoll, you're so good to me, _so_ good. Just let me give back a little," Jason said, ignoring the safeword entirely.

Dick felt himself start to choke on his breaths. 

"You told me, you told me, you _told_ me. Mallard, _mallard, mallard, mallard, mallard_ ," he repeated in between pants. Oh god, Jason really wasn't going to be stopped. He wasn't listening, he didn't _care_. 

There was no way to hold back the panic any longer _(Jay didn't care)_ — he couldn't _breathe_ _(Jay didn't care)_ — the panic was flooding his system _(Jay didn't care)_ , overflowing _(Jay didn't care)_ , washing away everything else it it's wake _(Jay wasn't going to_ ** _stop_** _)._

Dick darted his hand up, feeling for the panic button on his comm and pressing it before Jason could stop him.

Jason chuckled lowly. "Babydoll, you don't really want to invite the family, do you? Come on."

"We don't have to do it like this," Dick got out. It felt more like vomiting than speaking. "I'll tell them it was just a false alarm, I swear, if you just stop touching me. I never wanted to press the panic button on you, Jay. I don't want to make things worse between you and B, but this will destroy any chance of ever getting along again. Just let me go."

His words sounded strong and assured, and Dick could only thank whatever part of him had taken over his speech because he surely hadn't thought any of that before it came out.

"Oh babe, it's okay. I forgive you." Jason tilted his head and brushed a gloved hand over Dick's cheek to tweak his earlobe. "I blocked your comm from being able to send out any panic signals before I showed up." He said it softly, lovingly, a parody of a sweet nothing.

Another icy flood of fear flowed through Dick's veins. _(Jay wasn't going to stop)_. 

Nobody was coming. _(Jay wasn't going to stop)_. Nobody even _knew anything was wrong_ , and Jay— _**Jay wasn't going to be stopped**_.

...And...and…

And if he'd turned off the panic signal _beforehand_...that also meant that...he...he...had _planned_ on him saying no. 

He wasn't just _doing_ this, he had _planned_ this. _All_ of this.

Dick had apparently been mistaken when he'd thought he'd felt his heart breaking before, because he was positive he could feel it shattering right now, and this time was _so_ much more painful. 

"You _planned_ this." It came out in a broken, betrayed whisper before he could stop himself. 

Fuck. He shouldn't have let that come out. Showing hurt — showing _weakness_ — wasn't going to get him anything but more betrayal. 

He had even less control over his thoughts than his mouth though, and they raced madly, repeating and repeating and repeating the same thing. _Jason had planned this. He'd planned this, he'd_ ** _planned this_**. 

Dick could feel the jagged edges of the shards of his shattered heart tearing at his lungs, even as whatever part of him had taken over before made him open his mouth again. "You know they're going to wonder why we've gone silent. Someone will come looking. Just stop now before someone shows up." 

It should have come out confident like his last speech, but even this part of him apparently had its limits and his devastation couldn't be completely hidden.

It surely didn't matter, though. They both knew it was a flimsy lie anyway. Even if someone _was_ on their way, Gotham was half an hour away. 

"We have time." Jason rolled his hips against him. "And it doesn't _feel_ like you really want me to stop, now does it? You know you wouldn't be this hard if you weren't enjoying it." He rolled his hips again. "Isn't that right, babydoll?"

A dry sob slipped from his mouth, and Dick bit his lip harshly, swallowing against the burning bile that rose in his throat every time Jason moved against him.

He _was_ hard and it was making this all feel so much more sickening. It felt like the cruelest of jokes that he hadn't been able to get or _keep_ it up when he had so desperately wanted it; and now, when the only thing he wanted was for this to _stop_ , it was suddenly no problem.

God, he had never hated his body more.

"No!" he said desperately. He was _not_ going to be convinced he was enjoying this, and he was _not_ going to let Jason convince _himself_ that Dick wanted this, that this was in any way okay. Jason could take everything else, but he _couldn't_ have this. " _No!_ " he repeated, more emphatically. "I'm not enjoying it, I'm _not_ , I can't control— ! Please just _stop_ ; I don't want this. _I don't want this_."

_(Jason wasn't going to stop)._

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

Dick's stomach heaved, and he felt himself throw up a little in his mouth. To think, he used to think it was cute when Jason quoted Shakespeare.

At least Dick's brain finally seemed to be acclimating to the panic. He was still drowning, breathless, but rational thought and logic were starting to hesitantly creep back in. 

He would never be able to overpower Jason just on strength — not at such close range with no space for Dick to _move_. And of course, his Escrima Sticks and Wingdings wouldn't do shit against Jason's guns. Dick didn't think he had the heart to try and cut Jason badly enough with the sharp edge of a Wingding that he physically couldn't shoot — even in the face of this betrayal he just didn't think he could possibly permanently maim him. No, he was going to have to use his brain until he could slip away. _Think_.

Ordinarily he would bank on Jason not being willing to shoot him, but right now...he couldn't be sure. Probably nothing fatal — he'd go for a knee or a shoulder shot. He was good at shooting moving targets, but would he risk accidentally killing him? Maybe. Dick didn't have many other options, though.

Fuck, why hadn't he thought through this before? He should have _known_ — things were _too_ good, Jason had been _too_ understanding. Dick should've known there would be a tipping point, he should've been prepared.

"I'll suck you off," he offered desperately. "Whatever you want, I'll do it. I'll do anything, just get off of me."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, I _bet_ you would."

Ouch. He supposed it was too much to hope that Jason wouldn't go for a low blow like that when he was already… well… It hurt even just to think it, and Dick's mind shied away from naming what was happening.

Jason rolled his hips slowly against him again, and Dick got the eerie feeling that if he could see Jason's face behind the helmet, he'd be smiling.

" _Whatever_ I want, huh?" Jason's gloved hand slid between Dick's back and the wall, sliding down over the shape of his ass and squeezing, sharply pulling him harder against him with a small grunt. "Such a little slut — bet you'd _like_ letting me fuck that pretty little mouth of yours." His other hand came up to caress Dick's face again, and the gloved thumb trailed over his bottom lip. "You'd bend over so nice for me too, wouldn't you? Let me fuck that tight ass right out here in the open?"

Despite his best efforts, Dick let out a small, frightened whimper.

Jason rocked forward again. "Might even take you up on it," he continued, before tutting quietly. "...If you didn't look like you'd bolt as soon as I let my guard down." 

That had been exactly Dick's plan. Not that he had been very hopeful it would work — Jason wasn't stupid, and he knew Dick well — but still. Dammit.

Jason put a hand on the stock of one of his guns. "And you _really_ shouldn't do that, baby." His voice was a soft croon. "I don't wanna have to shoot you — it's not very sexy if I have to fuck you while you're bleeding everywhere — but I _will_ if you make me." He punctuated the sentence with another press of his hips. " _No running_."

Dick nodded slowly.

"Good _boy_ ," Jason said affectionately. "Wouldn't wanna mess up a good thing — you feel so lovely just like this." He squeezed his ass again, grinding hard against him. "Fuck, _just_ like this." 

His hand moved from his gun back to Dick's face, thumb running over his lips again as he started to rut against him in earnest. "So pretty for me, baby. _Gorgeous_." He tilted Dick's face up, trying to get him to meet his gaze, but Dick's eyes stayed downcast. 

"Look at me," Jason ordered levelly, squeezing his chin hard enough to bruise. A threat. Dick looked up.

All he could see in Jason's helmet was his own defeated, numb reflection. 

" _Perfect_ ," Jason breathed, thrusting his hips harder against him. " _Stunning_." Dick didn't feel pretty. He felt dirty. 

Jason let out a deep groan, still rutting against Dick's motionless body like he was an inanimate object rather than a person.

Fuck this. 

_Fuck this_. 

Fuck his pride — Dick was going to get away, whatever it took, even if Jason shot him when he ran. Jason didn't care, and _he couldn't fucking afford to right now either_.

It would only make this feel even more demeaning, but he would beg if that was what it took, and that was all he really had left.

"Whyever you're doing this," his voice came out sounding so small, so defeated, but Dick forged ahead, "whatever I did, I'm sorry; I'm _sorry_ Jay. Just please stop." _(Jason wasn't going to stop)._ "I'm sorry — whatever it was, I didn't mean it, I swear—" his voice broke, and another sob caught in his throat. 

'Whatever it was'; that was disingenuous. 

Jason no doubt wanted him to say it, to admit to his wrongdoing. It was about last night, it _had_ to be about last night. Asking him to stop checking and blowing up at him was the straw that broke the camel's back, the last shove that pushed him over the edge and finally shattered Jason's patience. 

Had he been planning this even as he'd held Dick close and murmured pretty words of support and understanding? As he'd asked for a safeword just so he could ignore it and hurt Dick all the more? Had he been thinking of this as he'd kissed him good morning? As he'd whispered lies of love and run deceptively gentle hands over his body? Had he merely been counting down the hours behind that façade, until he could perform his punishment and put Dick back in his place?

He had to've been. This was no spur of the moment act — Jason wanted him to _hurt_ and he wanted him to know _why_ , to know that he'd brought it on himself by stepping out of line.

No doubt at all, Jason wanted to hear it, to hear that he _knew_ , that he'd learned his lesson.

"If this is about last night, I'm _sorry_. I shouldn't have said anything, I shouldn't have asked you to stop; I didn't mean— I didn't mean _this_. I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_ , I swear I won't do it again—" he choked out another sob as he screwed up his face. The words alone weren't enough, but maybe he could still play on Jason's emotions a bit. Assuming he still cared about what Dick felt at all. _(Jason didn't care). (Maybe he never really had)._

There was a small silence _(Jason wasn't going to stop)_ , and then—

“Seriously? Ugh. You look like you're about to cry; I thought you were stronger than that. You couldn't have waited two more minutes? I was almost there, but that just ruined the whole picture — it's hard to keep looking pretty when you're a blubbering mess,” Jason said in a completely different voice, letting go and stepping back slightly with a sigh. "Fucking cocktease. At least I got the most important thing, though."

Dick froze at the sound of this unfamiliar, warbling, politely disdainful tenor that was now coming out of Jason's mouth. Instead of slipping away and running the first moment he had any space like he'd planned, his whole body had locked up. He stopped breathing.

Jason's guns and Red Hood uniform, and his entire _shape_ , began to melt away like thick wax, shimmering and evaporating out into the air, leaving a significantly smaller, middle-aged man with thinning hair and beady eyes.

Dick's head spun. This had turned so quickly from one type of horrifying nightmare into a complete other. And he _hated_ the small part of himself that felt _relieved_. _(It_ ** _wasn't Jay_** _who didn't care). (It_ ** _wasn't Jay_** _who wouldn't stop)._

He had no room to feel relief when this was worse in a way; and he didn't _deserve_ to feel relief when he had doubted Jason in the first place — had actually _believed_ he would even do that.

“So the Red Hood’s name is Jay? Short for Jason, is it? Any last name? And what was with that whole 'mallard' thing — was that a code?” 

The man sounded completely self-assured and confident, and he was looking _pleased_ with himself. Like this was all just a wonderful turn of events that had gone exactly the way he’d wanted it to, and Dick might just _answer_ his questions for him. Like he'd broken Dick's spirit enough to make him just spill his secrets.

Sudden, molten fury burned through Dick’s veins, unfreezing him, and quicker than the man could blink, he grabbed one of his Escrima Sticks from his back holster and swung it _hard_ against the side of the man’s neck.

He started to crumple, and Dick kneed him in the stomach, sending him flying backward.

Dick let out a wordless shriek of rage, all of his anger and humiliation and pain and self-loathing burbling up into his throat, overwhelming him.

“How does that feel, motherfucker?” Dick shouted, stalking over toward him.“ _Stronger?!_ You thought I was _stronger_ than that? Does that feel fucking weak to you?" He unholstered his other Escrima Stick, and bent over the prone form (which was still trying desperately to catch its breath), continuing to scream profanities at the man.

He didn’t really feel at all in control of what was coming out of his mouth, but he savagely refused to care.

"Did you like that?” He brought the right-hand stick down full force, shattering his left collarbone with a sharp _crack_ , and the man shrieked in pain, ineffectually raising a hand to try and ward off the blows. Distantly, Dick could feel that his face was wet with tears — although whether from anger or fear, he didn't know. 

“Huh?” he pressed, batting the hand out of the way and swinging again.

“Was it _worth it_ , you son of a bitch?” Dick was nearly blinded with rage. “Did that feel _good?_ ” He continued to rain blows down on the man, waiting, just _waiting_ for a fucking answer.

“Did you _enjoy_ tricking me into thinking someone I _cared_ about, someone I _trusted_ —” a particularly vicious swing snapped another rib, “was touching me?” he swung again at the same place, “Was taking _advantage_ of me?”

He landed several sharp kicks to his side. "Did you think I needed another fucking rapist? You think I haven't _fucking_ been through enough? Think you get to put your grubby hands on me just because _you_ wanted to?" His voice caught on a sob.

"I am so fucking _sick_ of this shit! I am not a fucking sex toy! I am a _PERSON!_ " he screamed, punctuating every word with another swing of his Escrima Sticks. "A **_person!_** A living, breathing human being! And I am so goddamn _sick_ of you people. Do you fucking hear me?! _I am sick of this shit._ ** _You do not get to just USE_** ** _my_** ** _body as a fucking TOOL to get yourself off_**."

“Please!” the man shrieked.

“ _You don’t get to talk now_ ,” Dick’s voice was cold and deadly, as he brought his hand down again, cracking the man’s jaw. “You _did_ your fucking talking. Now you listen to _me_.

"The next time you speak, it will be to beg forgiveness at the feet of whatever higher power may exist — and I _pray_ that they are even less merciful than me."

He kneeled and pressed the end of one of the Escrima Sticks hard against the broken jaw, sending an extra electric shock on top of the already agonising pain.

“Where’s your magic now, huh? You can make yourself look and sound like someone else, but you can’t defend yourself?” He pressed harder, and the man screamed until his voice broke painfully. 

"Oh, do you feel helpless?" Dick asked with mock concern. "Does someone else hold all the cards and you can't even do anything to protect yourself? Aren't you _stronger than that?_ " 

He spit in the man's face.

“I hope you fucking _enjoyed_ touching me,” Dick said viciously, as he got to his feet. “Because you’re never gonna touch anything else ever again.”

He ruthlessly drove his heel down onto the man’s right hand.

“Is this what you wanted?” he roared at the man as he repeatedly stomped on his hand, pulverising his fingers.

“Huh? _Is this what you fucking wanted?_ ” he stepped on the man’s stomach, and crouched to slam an Escrima Stick down on the other hand.

◇◇◇

Jason hopped off of his motorcycle, letting it skid off into the sidewalk as he grappled up onto the roof next to the building where Dick was. Fuck, Dick was gonna kill the man, if he wasn’t dead already. He’d stopped screaming in pain a while ago.

 _He_ didn’t give a fuck — that bastard _deserved_ to die — but Jason knew how Dick felt about killing, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do absolutely everything in his power to keep that rapist son of a bitch from dying and making Dick feel _guilty_ about this, like _Dick_ was the one in the fucking wrong.

“Everybody else stay back, I do _not_ want to overwhelm him,” Jason said into the comms. “I’m about to engage.”

“Hood, you aren't the best person right now—” Bruce started.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, B,” Jason snarled.

“Shit,” he heard through the comms, as he saw Tim come to a screeching stop on his motorcycle on the street below, looking straight up at Jason leaping onto the rooftop with Dick.

Dick whirled to face him, looking positively feral, and Jason held his hands up in surrender.

“Hey Dick. Dick, it’s me. I’m gonna take off my helmet, okay b— Dickie?” He caught himself before calling Dick ‘baby’. That was what _he_ had called him.

He slowly removed his helmet and set it down beside his feet, keeping his eyes on Dick. 

“Do you want me to take off the domino too?” he continued speaking calmly and levelly, hands back up submissively.

“No.” The reply was firm, but Dick didn’t look any more like he trusted him.”

“It’s me, Dickie,” he said, wracking his brain for what would convince him. 

“A few weeks before I died, you came to the Cave and did a little training session with me to extend an olive branch and show you were okay with me being Robin. And when I told you I was tired of everybody treating me like a little kid, you told me you still slept with your stuffed elephant to make me feel better.”

Dick was listening, but made no move away from the man’s unconscious body, so Jason continued.

“Her name is Zitka and you had her from when you were little, at Haly’s circus. You named her after the elephant there. And now she stays in the place of honor on top of the bookcase in our bedroom.”

Jason bit his lip. “Sometimes when you go on away missions and I miss you, I cuddle her instead. I thought you didn’t know, but then Roy took a creep shot of me taking a nap with her and sent it to you, and you never said anything, so maybe you knew all along.”

Dick jerkily shook his head. “He never sent that.”

“Okay, I didn’t know, he told me he did,” he said carefully. Fuck, he couldn’t mess this up. What else, what else?

“You always insist that the birthmark above my knee looks just like a little teddy bear, and one time you spent an hour logic-ing your way through how it conclusively proved that _I’m_ actually just a big teddy bear, because that’s the type of shit you say when you’re sleepy but refuse to actually go to sleep for some reason,” he blurted out. “You even ordered a book online for me about skull readings or something, because you insisted that it proved that physical marks on our bodies can tell you about our personalities.”

“What did you say when you woke me up having a nightmare last night?” Dick challenged, sharply.

“Nothing, b— Dick, it was too early to talk. But when we got up this morning, I begged you not to tell the others I got the bruise next to my eye by accidentally punching myself in the face during the nightmare.”

Dick nodded hesitantly.

“Can I come a little closer?”

“Okay.”

Jason slowly lowered his hands to his sides and stepped forward.

“Stop there,” Dick said, when he was a few feet away, and Jason halted.

“Okay?”

Dick nodded.

“Will you move away from him?” Jason asked, indicating the unconscious pulp of a man, and he was relieved when he saw that the chest was still miraculously rising and falling on its own. “I know you want to finish beating him to death, and I would normally fully support that endeavor, but please don’t. 

“If you still want him dead in twenty four hours, I won’t stop you, I won’t let _anyone_ stop you. I’ll even help, if you want. But I know how you feel about killing, and I think if you killed him right now, you would crush yourself with the guilt later, and you don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to feel guilty for something _he_ did, Dick.” Jason held his gaze, resolutely ignoring Bruce in his ear bitching him out over saying the guy should die, and offering to let Dick do it.

Too fucking bad. It would be _his_ choice.

Dick nodded numbly and stumbled backward to the roof access door, hitting it, and sliding down until he was sitting against it. 

“Can I come sit near you, b— Dickie?” Damn, he really wished he hadn’t made such a habit of using variations of the word ‘baby', because it was difficult as hell to keep from letting it slip out.

“Yeah.” Dick seemed to realize his hands were still clenched tightly around his blood-covered Escrima Sticks, and he slowly put them away, back into their holsters.

Jason carefully folded himself down onto the roof a few feet away.

“How are you feeling?”

Dick shrugged, looking down at his legs instead of toward Jason. 

“Is it okay if I call you pet names? You don’t have to say yes, and you can change your mind if you don’t like it.” Maybe if he could substitute something else in for ‘baby’, it would be easier.

“J-just don’t call me baby. Or ba—" he swallowed hard, "babydoll.”

“Okay, Dickie. You can change your mind anytime if you want me to stop — just say so okay? I’ll stop,” Jason said softly, and then internally cursed himself. 

He didn’t want to make Dick feel worse like he had yesterday by treating him like— well, yeah, Jason realized. He _was_ treating him like a scared child.

“What we talked about last night, do you still want me to stop doing that?”

Dick shook his head no.

“Okay, sweet pea. You can even yell at me again if it starts bothering you.”

Dick didn’t respond.

They sat in silence for a few moments. 

“Does this mean I can call you pumpkin now?”

Dick let out a short, hysterical laugh, and then abruptly burst into tears. Deep, shuddering sobs wracked through him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, crying into his knees.

“Why does this keep happening to me?”

“I don’t know sweetheart. You don’t deserve it — no one does. It’s nothing you’re doing, Dickie.”

Dick shook his head violently. "Why can't I stop being such a dumb fucking slut?"

"You're not a _slut_ , Dick, jesus. And you're not dumb."

“I really am. I never fucking learn. If I hadn’t— he— I almost— it would’ve been just like Mirage.”

“Mirage?” Jason asked gently.

“When I— Kory—” he choked out, crying harder.

Jesus fucking _christ_ , just how many times had something like this happened?

“Breathe, Dickiebird, come on. Can you try to match my breaths?” 

"I...I can't do this. Go away, don't do this now."

"Do what? Deep breaths?"

Dick drove a fist down onto the rooftop. "Stop drawing it out! I can't deal with this again. I can't, I really can't. Please just go."

"I don't understand. What am I drawing out? I can give you more space, but I can't leave you like this."

"You're gonna fucking leave me anyway, don't pretend you _care_ and you're just _okay_ with it — like you're not just gonna walk away in a few days because you've realized I'm still a stupid cheating whore and a burden, and I won't let you even get anywhere close to me anymore."

"Dick. Stop it. I'm _not_ breaking up with you, okay? Not tonight, and not in a few days, and not any time after that. We got through the past few weeks, right?" At Dick's look of alarm, he hastily clarified, "We don't have to get through everything the same way, everything doesn't have the same solution, but the point is we were getting through it, right? I'll work with you on this too. I'm not gonna get mad at you for this, you didn't do anything wrong.

"You're not a slut or a whore or stupid or a burden, and _that_ was _not_ cheating. Whoever told you any of that shit was _lying_ , alright? Don't say that about yourself, you deserve better."

"I shouldn't've said anything last night," Dick mumbled, voice still thick with tears. "'S what I fucking get for telling you to stop checking."

"Dick, no. Come on. Don't try to make this your fault, it's _not_ your fault, and you were _absolutely right_ to tell me to stop doing something that was bothering you. You don't _deserve_ horrible things just for speaking up. You could never _deserve_ this, okay? That's fucked up, this isn't on you."

"I would've known, though," Dick said quietly, although his voice was still teary and jagged. "I would've known. He didn't say it."

"Maybe, but maybe not. Either way, it's not your fault. It was upsetting you, so you asked me to stop; that's how it's _supposed_ to work."

Dick shook his head. "Wasn't worth it."

Jason closed his eyes for a few seconds. "Let's try those deep breaths again. Give ourselves some time to settle down, okay?" He did his best to suppress his boiling rage, as he demonstrated even, calming breaths for Dick. 

His rage wasn't directed toward Dick, not at all, but it went in more directions than he could count. He was furious at the universe for letting this happen, at the man bleeding out on the rooftop a few feet away, and at anyone who'd even so much as _thought_ about touching Dick without his consent. And again at anyone who had called Dick any of those ugly names and made him believe it was true, and at Kory and Babs for not doing a good enough job making it clear it wasn't Dick's fault, and himself and Bruce and the whole team and all of their friends for _not fucking noticing_ most of it.

He couldn't possibly describe how absolutely livid he was, but he swallowed it down and breathed.

Eventually, after maybe ten minutes, Dick’s breathing levelled out and his tears stopped.

“I wanna go home. Sleep,” he mumbled.

“Yeah sweetie pie, we can do that. You good to fly?”

Dick shook his head tiredly. “Stairs.”

“Stairs it is. I have my motorcycle, but...You can take it if you don’t wanna ride with me.”

He shook his head again. “'Ve got mine. Couple blocks away.”

He stood up and bent to examine the lock on the roof access door.

“Want me to walk with you?” Jason asked, pulling his lockpicks from his belt, and holding them out.

Dick nodded and took them, making quick work of the lock.

“I’m gonna turn off my comm, okay?” he told Dick, before signing off to Barbara, and taking the piece out of his ear, tucking it into an empty compartment in his belt. “Do you wanna give me yours too? It’s transmitting, but not receiving.”

Dick handed it over with the lockpicks, and Jason turned it off, dropping them in with his comm, then he tucked his helmet under his arm and followed Dick down the stairs. 

They rode home in silence.

After about half an hour they arrived outside their apartment building, tiredly climbing the fire escape, and letting themselves in through the bedroom window.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch instead?”

Dick shook his head. “Can you stay...in the room?” The ‘but not in the bed’ went unsaid.

“How 'bout I sleep right here next to the bed?” Jason asked, and Dick nodded.

“Gonna...shower.” He grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared, and Jason set about making a nest of extra blankets on the floor while he waited.

Within the hour they were both clean and tucked into their blankets.

“Goodnight, Dickie.”

“Night.” It came out as a whisper.

“I love you.”

Dick didn’t reply, but Jason didn’t mind. He’d said it enough times over the years that he’d practically paid it forward.

◇◇◇

When Jason woke up, he saw that Damian was curled in a ball on the floor at the foot of the bed. He was still in his Robin uniform, and he’d wrapped his cape around himself like a blanket.

Damn, bats were stubborn. He could’ve just asked.

Jason draped a thick quilt from his little nest over Damian, and the boy blinked his eyes open.

And _fuck_ , if that wasn’t the most devastatingly vulnerable expression Jason had ever seen.

The kid wanted comfort from _Dick_ , wanted to make sure that _he_ was alright, but Jason didn’t think Damian was going to be able to get that right now, so maybe he’d settle for the next best thing. 

He opened his arms, and Damian crawled into them, wrapping himself around Jason like a baby koala, and holding tight enough to completely halt blood flow.

Jason held him back tightly. “It’s okay, he’s gonna be okay,” he murmured.

Damian didn’t let go for a long time, long after Jason couldn’t feel his arms, but that was okay. He’d _give_ the kid his whole damn arm, if he thought it would help.


	9. Seven

Tim sat at his kitchen counter, staring down into his sixth cup of coffee of the morning.

He hadn’t slept. Although his laptop was sitting on the counter in front of him, he’d never actually done anything beyond opening it. Mostly he’d just stared.

Stared at the wall, the counter. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop hearing the way Dick’s voice had shaken when he’d still thought it was Jason — the way he’d asked what he’d _done_ , like it might have been his fault; the way he'd _apologized_ to the man. Couldn’t stop hearing the things Dick had screamed at the man while he’d beaten him to the brink of death a few hours ago.

Well, it had probably been more than a few hours ago by now — the sun was well up into the sky.

Tim mopped a hand over his face, and took a gulp of his (nearly cold) coffee. Damn. He didn’t know how long it’d been sitting there.

He heard one of his living room windows slide open and his safeguards being deactivated, and looked up to see Cass climbing inside.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly.

She walked straight up next to him, and held her arms out partway, clearly asking if he wanted a hug.

He nodded and laid his head on her shoulder. They gripped each other tightly.

“You didn’t sleep either?” she asked.

“Did anyone?” 

She shrugged.

Neither of them seemed to want to relinquish their hold on each other, so they stayed, even when several minutes later the front door quietly opened behind them.

“Hey guys,” Stephanie said, shoving her keys back into her pocket, and closing the door. She sounded more subdued than usual, and her eyes were red and puffy. “Mind if I join in?”

“Yeah, come on,” Tim said, and she wrapped her arms around both of them.

“Think Duke’s doing okay?” Stephanie asked, after a bit.

Tim shrugged. “I doubt any of us really are. Should we call him?”

They finally all let go of each other, and Stephanie pulled out her phone, scrolling through the contacts. “Probably a good idea.”

“I’m worried about Dami,” Tim admitted, biting his lip.

Cass shook her head.

“I can’t imagine any scenario where he didn’t go straight to Dick and Jay’s,” Stephanie said. “He’s probably fine. Or, as fine as possible, in any case.” 

She pressed call, and put the phone on speaker as it started ringing.

“Hey Steph, everything okay?” Duke picked up.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just wanted to check in — how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” he said slowly. “Didn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I couldn’t sleep either… If you don’t want to be alone right now, me and Cass are at Tim’s main place downtown.”

Duke was quiet for so long that Stephanie asked, “Duke?”

“Yeah. Actually, yeah, I think that’d be nice. Be there in fifteen?”

“Okay, see you.” She hung up.

“Do either of you want coffee? Tea?” Tim offered.

When Duke finally knocked on the door, they were sitting around the living room with their drinks.

Tim got the door. “Hey. You want coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks. You okay?”

Tim shrugged. “Not really.” He turned back into the kitchen.

Duke found a seat in the living room, feeling slightly guilty as he looked at Stephanie and Cass. They were all so much closer to Dick than he was — Dick was like a big brother to them. He felt almost like he didn’t have the right to be as upset as the others.

Rationally, he knew that was stupid. That wasn’t how things worked. He’d been a witness to something horrible, just like the rest of them, and he had every right to be upset by it. But a part of him still felt like he was intruding.

Tim came back over and handed him a mug of coffee, and Duke thanked him.

There was a small silence.

“So _that_ was Dick’s temper you all warned me about, huh?” Duke blurted out, and then immediately bit his lip. That probably wasn’t appropriate.

The rest of them laughed (and if it was slightly hysterical, they could ignore that for now).

“ _Yeah_ ,” Stephanie gasped out. “That was definitely it.”

More than anything, that was what had been haunting Duke. Those horrible cracking sounds, and the pained screaming. And then once the man had fallen silent, that had almost been worse because Dick just hadn’t _stopped_.

It wasn’t that Duke felt bad for the man — definitely not — and he understood why Dick had done it, and that he hadn’t been completely in control, but it was still disturbing. 

He’d almost beaten the man to _death_ — _would_ have, if Jason, of all people, hadn’t stopped him.

The way the man had looked when they'd gone up there to retrieve him...Duke didn't think he'd ever be able to forget. He had barely been recognizable as human, and he certainly would never make a full recovery. His hands would definitely never be useable again, and the rest of him...Duke had no idea.

“I think I want to go to therapy,” Tim said, breaking Duke out of his thoughts. “All of us need it — _have_ needed it for a long time — but, I know what B will probably say. You guys don’t have to, but I think you should think about it. I need to talk to someone, though, I can’t do this anymore.”

"Are you gonna see Cass' therapist?" Stephanie asked. "I mean you've got to be able to be honest without compromising our identities, right?"

He shrugged. “I was thinking maybe I could see Black Canary. She counselled us in Young Justice whenever shit really hit the fan, and I'd feel more comfortable with someone I already know I can trust."

“I'm not saying you're wrong, I think it's a good idea if you need it, but do you think Bruce would be okay with another member of the JL knowing everything?” Stephanie asked, not unkindly. "You know how he is about secrets…"

“I don’t really give a shit how Bruce feels about it,” Tim snapped. “When I can finally stop hearing my big brother getting raped and then almost beating the man to death in my head, maybe I’ll be open to alternatives!”

The room went silent.

“You’re still hearing it too, huh,” Duke said quietly.

“So am I,” Cass said.

Stephanie wiped her eyes briskly, and nodded. “Me too. I’ll— I'll back you. I’m not going, but I’ll fight Bruce for you if I have to.”

Duke and Cass nodded.

“Thanks guys.” He looked to Duke. “You should seriously think about going too.”

“Come on, Duke didn’t get to be a part of the last group hug,” Stephanie changed the subject, trying to boost the mood. “Let’s share the love.”

They crowded around Duke and he laughed. “Well, I definitely feel loved.”

“Good.” Cass said.

They were all going to be okay — all of them were determined. They had to be.

◇◇◇

“Bruce.” Barbara wheeled herself out of the elevator and into the Cave. Bruce was sitting at the Batcomputer alone, typing furiously and scrolling through several feeds, as he had been all night according to Alfred.

“Barbara,” he acknowledged, not looking back at her. “I suppose Alfred called you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed. “I didn't come to check on you, no. I just...didn’t want to be alone,” she admitted. “And I figured you’d probably be throwing yourself into work too, so...why not combine forces?”

Bruce nodded.

“So much just still doesn’t add up about last night,” Barbara sighed, once she got settled in front of the bank of monitors with the secondary keypad. “I can’t figure out if, when he messed with Dick’s comm, he left it still transmitting by accident, or if he did it on purpose — maybe to taunt Jason further? And why would he lie about turning off the panic signal? He certainly should have been able to if he'd wanted, so was that another taunt?

“He must have figured out the tracking devices too, or else he wouldn't have known Dick was even in Blüdhaven, or that he was alone. And why is he even specifically after Jason? Why would he want his name? And what about the magic? He had enough to turn himself into Jason’s doppelgänger, but not do anything else? He must have bought a spell, right? He can't be a real magic user.”

“I think it was all intentional,” Bruce said. “And he talked the way Jason usually talks to Dick, which means he’s been listening; he was probably the one who was tapping into us using the comm Dick lost. That means he knew what he was doing if he was able to do that and scramble the location signal. He also fixed Dick’s comm to stop receiving remotely, so he definitely knew how the comms system worked, the question is how he got the lost comm in the first place. How did he know about it? Is he in league with that woman? And you're right, if he was an actual magic user, he would have defended himself.”

“Good point…”

They went on conferring, uninterrupted until Alfred eventually brought down dinner.

◇◇◇

“Hey sweetheart?” Jason tapped on the door lightly before going back into the bedroom.

It was late afternoon, and Jason had made Damian and himself some food a little bit ago, but Dick still hadn’t gotten up for the day.

Dick didn’t respond. He was curled up on the bed with the covers piled over his shoulders, but he appeared to be awake.

“Did you want some food? We still have plenty of eggs.”

Dick shook his head, still keeping his eyes closed.

“No. Feel sick.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. You need anything? Damian’s still here…”

“No, I’m fine, just...gonna go back to sleep.” He was quiet for a moment. “Wait, isn’t Dami supposed to be at school? It’s a Monday.”

“He stayed out. He’s not feeling so great today either.”

Dick sighed. “‘Kay. Give him an obnoxious hug for me.” He rolled over, dragging the duvet over his head.

Well okay then. The bedroom was just going to be off limits today then, Jason guessed. 

He closed the door behind him and flopped down on the couch beside Damian, who was on his phone, and had changed out of his Robin gear into some of Dick’s clothes that were still just a bit too big on him

“There are entire other chairs,” Damian said pointedly, yanking his feet closer toward himself.

“Yeah but Dickie told me to give you a big obnoxious hug from him, and I can’t do that from another chair.”

“You hugged me earlier, and anything from you is obnoxious by default. So, already fulfilled.”

“Wow, not pulling any punches, huh? Fine. See if I cook for you again.”

“I have a black card. I can order out as much as I like,” Damian said, still tapping away at his phone.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “But what would Alfred say about you eating delivery for every meal?”

Damian finally looked up, glaring. “Nothing. Because you wouldn’t tell him.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t? But what if it just accidentally...slipped out while I was lamenting over the fact that you just refuse to eat my wonderful home cooking. My lovely recipes that I got straight from him…”

“Do you spill everything that easily? Feels like a security concern.”

“Don’t turn this into a work thing. Do you lie to Alfred that often?”

Damian frowned. “We spar. _When_ I win, you either continue to feed me, or keep your mouth shut about me ordering out without your stupid hug penance—”

“That’s _Dick’s_ 'stupid hug penance',” Jason reminded him, and Damian rolled his eyes. “If _I_ win, I won’t snitch, but you pay the price.”

They shook on it, and then pushed the furniture up against the walls.

Damian immediately took the offensive.

They sparred for perhaps fifteen minutes before Damian left an opening on his left flank.

It was too obvious, and Jason didn’t believe for a second Damian had missed it. It was probably a trap, but Jason went for it anyway. He’d let the kid win if he wanted.

Only…it wasn’t a trap. Jason took him down, holding until Damian tapped out.

“You let me win!” 

“Of course I didn’t _let_ you win,” Damian sat up, scowling.

“Aw, if you wanted a hug you could’ve just asked.”

“I _don’t_ ,” Damian insisted, crossing his arms. “I didn’t let you win.”

“Oh, so you just suck at sparring? I’m a better fighter than you? Aww, thanks gremlin, I thought you’d never say.”

Damian’s scowl deepened. “Winning _one_ sparring match when I’m _sick_ hardly means you’re better.”

Jason tackled him, hugging him obnoxiously tightly, and messing up his hair on purpose.

“You think I don’t know you’re not sick? That’s cute — I know you’re just worried about Dickie.”

“Would you unhand me now?” Damian grumbled, not hugging back, but also not squirming away.

Jason let go of him and laughed. “I can tell you’re not mad either.”

Damian gave a glare that promised pain, and pushed himself up off the floor, stalking over to the couch, which was now shoved up against the wall. He snatched his phone up and pointedly stretched out, taking up the whole sofa so Jason couldn’t sit down again.

Jason hopped to his feet.

“Alright, I need to go get groceries, and...take care of some business. Call me if Dick gets up, or if you’re leaving.”

“‘Take care of some business?’” Damian questioned. “I wasn’t aware drug lords ‘took care of business’ in daylight hours now.”

Jason clicked his tongue. “Good, ‘cause it’s none of your concern.”

He went into the kitchen and Damian saw him come out a minute later with his leather jacket and Red Hood helmet under his arm, and — _why_ did he keep those in the kitchen? Todd was such a freak.

Actually, Jason had several, one set of which he’d hidden in some of the lower cabinets in the kitchen. He just hadn’t wanted to disturb Dick by going to get the ones in their bedroom.

He grabbed a bag from a hook by the door, and threw the jacket and helmet in, shoving on his boots and grabbing his keys.

“Alright kid, have fun.”

Damian gave a noncommittal grunt, and Jason left.

A few hours later, Jason climbed back in through one of the living room windows, and took off his helmet, tossing it on a chair.

“You smell like gunpowder,” Damian commented, as Jason passed by, nearly tripping as he tried to leap over the coffee table.

“Too much to ask you to move the furniture back?” Jason grunted, clutching the bag — now full of groceries — tightly so as not to spill it.

Damian ignored him. “You didn’t take a gun with you.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not always carrying a gun.”

“Your jacket was empty, and you’d just tackled me before you got it. I’d have felt if you had a gun.”

Jason made a weird face and bit his lip hard. “There's a lotta jokes I wanna make right now — but I’m not gonna. I’m stronger than this,” he said half to himself.

Damian looked unamused. “While I’m sure whatever you want to say is absolutely _hilarious_ ,” he didn’t sound like he thought that at all, “you still haven’t answered my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question.”

Damian just glared at him.

“Jesus, kid. Fine. It turned into a small firefight, and clearly even if I don’t bring a gun, I know how to get ahold of one. I’m fine, and the other guys won’t be bothering anyone anymore— No I didn’t _kill_ anyone,” Jason added when Damian’s glare sharpened.

“Fine.”

“You gonna help me move the furniture back?” Jason asked, as he set the groceries on the dining table.

Damian reluctantly rolled off of the couch. “I suppose.”

But he spent more time watching Jason carefully to make sure he wasn’t lying about being injured than actually helping.

◇◇◇

Around eight o’clock, Damian came out of the bathroom in his Robin suit, and Jason looked up from his book.

“You’re patrolling, then?”

Damian nodded.

“Wanna see if Dickie’s up?”

“Yes.”

Jason put his book down on the coffee table, and went over to rap lightly on the bedroom door.

“Dickie, sweetheart?”

He opened the door.

“Dick?” He squinted in the dark, but the bed looked strangely flat.

Jason flicked on the light. The bed was empty.

“Fuck.”

He went straight to the closet, and opened the concealed compartment in the back and, yep the Nightwing suit was gone.

“He went out,” Damian observed from behind him.

“ _Without saying anything_ ,” Jason gritted out. _That_ was the part that really bothered him.

God _dammit_. He wouldn’t have stopped him if he really wanted to go out patrolling. Jason certainly didn’t think it was a good idea, but Dick was an adult, and it definitely wouldn’t be worth breaking his trust to stop him. It also kind of hurt that Dick hadn’t even considered letting him know where he _was_.

Jason fished his comm out of the belt of his Red Hood pants, and flicked it on.

“Nightwing,” he immediately said into it.

“What about him?” Bruce was on alert in an instant.

“I was calling to him. You mean he’s not on the comms?”

“You don’t know where he _is?_ ” Bruce demanded.

“I’m his boyfriend, not his fucking babysitter,” Jason snapped. “Last I checked in on him he was asleep. Looks like he took his suit and went out on patrol.”

He looked back at Damian. “You’re with me tonight, gremlin.”

Damian didn’t even bother to complain about the order or the nickname, just nodded.

“Okay,” Jason said into the comm again. “Me and Robin are going out looking for him. Red Hood out.” 

He switched off the comm.

“Give me two minutes.” He grabbed his Red Hood gear and headed to the bathroom.

◇◇◇

They finally found Dick in Blüdhaven. He was starfished on a rooftop, staring up at the sky, breathing slowly — too evenly not to be counting.

Jason preemptively took off his helmet and turned off his comm, gesturing for Damian to do the same. Maybe nothing would happen, but if Dick _was_ ready to talk, it wasn't everybody else's business.

"'Wing?" Jason asked, when Dick didn't look over at him and Damian, despite their somewhat loud arrival onto the roof.

"I let her kill him, you know," Dick said quietly.

"What?" Jason asked. "Who?"

"Blockbuster. I was there. I could have stopped her, but in that second I just thought...he'll never stop unless he's dead. And I stepped out of the way, and just watched Tarantula kill him. No— _she_ pulled the trigger, but _we_ killed him." Dick spoke slowly, and he sounded detached, almost spacey.

Jason waved Damian back when he opened his mouth.

"That's in the past now. It's over. We can't change it," Jason said gently. He took a few careful steps forward, and sat down near Dick's sprawled form.

"This is where it happened. Right here." Dick pressed his palms and the backs of his heels down harder into the rooftop.

"This is where she killed him?"

"No." Dick said simply.

There was a long silence before he spoke again.

"This isn't the first time I've come back here. When you and I first started dating, I started having nightmares about her again. So I'd come out here and just...sit in it and remember," he sighed. "Sometimes I was afraid that if I couldn't remember every little detail and dissect it, see what I should have done, then it'd happen again and I wouldn't be able to see it coming."

He let out a small, bitter laugh. "And clearly a hole has been popped in that theory, because even though she's dead and not coming back, and I’ve spent years picking apart and putting together the hazy memories, that doesn't seem to stop it happening. _I_ don't seem to be able to stop it happening before it does."

"Dick. It's not on you. It's not your responsibility—"

"I don't really care!" Dick shouted, digging his fingers in against the rooftop. "I don't care about what _should_ be the case, I care that _I_ keep having to go through this, and _I'm_ the only one who can stop it, and I _never do_. Not once. Zero out of fucking four!"

"That's not your fault, Dick. I don't know what you expect to be able to do, but you're only human. It's not somehow _your_ fault just because you can't magically do more than you're capable of! I—" Jason took a deep breath, and lowered his tone again. "I'm not mad at you, but you're holding yourself to an impossible standard and just hurting yourself more."

"How is it not my fault, though?" Dick demanded. "If someone sees something fucked up and doesn't _do_ anything, they're partially responsible!"

"Not always! And it doesn't matter anyway, because you _weren't_ just a random bystander. You were the victim, Dick; and that sucks and it's hard to deal with, especially when we're used to being the heroes, but you were. You did what you could."

"I didn't though! It doesn't matter whether I was the victim or not, I still didn't _do_ anything to help myself, I just let it happen!" He kicked a foot down against the roof. "I didn't even _know_ with Mirage until the next _day_. I thought it had been Kory, and when she told me I just stood there. I didn't do a goddamn thing. And Kory got pissed at me for cheating and I still just fucking _stood there._ I could have done _anything_. I should have noticed in the fucking first place! What kind of person doesn't even recognize that's not their partner? Twice!"

"Any normal person!" Jason exclaimed. "Nobody expects their partner to actually be a fucking imposter all the time; if they're acting weird it's usually just them acting weird! Why _would_ you know? Listen, if it was me telling you all of this happened, would you judge me? Would you tell me I didn't do enough, that I should've known better? What did you tell me about Talia?" His eyes went wide as he realized what he'd said, and he immediately backtracked. "I mean, not that— I just meant—"

"It's different!" Dick insisted. “I wasn’t a fucking teenager being _groomed_."

"Okay I wasn't—" Jason started to protest, but Dick continued on, not in the mood to hear him defend Talia. That was _so_ not the point right now.

"You would’ve _known_. I...I was preparing to _propose_ to Kory, I was going to _marry her_ and I didn’t even notice. How inattentive a lover do you have to be to not even notice the person you’re fucking isn’t the person you’re planning to spend the rest of your life with?” He was shouting again by the end of it, and Jason tried to interrupt, but Dick forged ahead once again. 

“And you!” His knuckles scraped against the rough rooftop, and his throat tightened, making him let out a dry sob. “I _know_ — I know you wouldn’t, but I still thought…” he trailed off. “ _Why?_ Why would I even assume it was you? This is what I _mean!_ You wouldn’t have done that, nobody fucking does that, especially in this line of work. You can’t just say _‘Oh but what if it was somebody else’_ , because nobody else is this much of a fucking dumbass! It’s a false equivalency!”

"It isn't different at all from me! You just don't know how not to blame yourself for everything awful in the world!"

"It is! If it was you, and you told me about something happening to you, then I would _know_ that you did everything you could. But _I didn't_."

"Well I'm telling you that you did, the same way that you would tell me. It may feel like you didn't, but you did what you could, okay?"

Dick grabbed blindly toward Jason, and huffed when he couldn't find what he was looking for.

"Hand." he said, holding his own out impatiently, palm up until Jason set one of his down on it.

He snatched it up, frowning, and intertwined their fingers, holding the hand to his chest under both of his.

"You aren't going to convince me, but I'm done arguing with you. I just want to feel like shit with some good company."

Jason let out a slow sigh. "Okay sweetheart."

Dick finally looked over at him, studying his face in the dark. "This is really you, right? It's actually you?"

"Yeah, angel."

"Tell me. Tell me something only you know," he asked quietly.

"Okay." Jason thought for a moment. "I really badly wanted the secret compartment in our room to be behind the bookshelf instead of in the closet, because I wanted that cool 'pull on the right book and it swings open' thing. But then everything we tried always made the books fall off."

Dick smiled. "Yeah, I remember how badly you wanted that to work. Dork."

"It would've been totally awesome and you know it."

"Yeah," Dick admitted. He reached up a hand to Jason's jaw, and stroked his thumb over his cheek. _I love you._

He couldn't say it though — couldn't force it past his lips. Dick dropped his hand back on top of their clasped hands on his chest.

"I thought it was you. I really thought it was you, I thought you would actually do that, even though I _know_...I should've known." He squeezed Jason's hand tighter. "I should've recognized sooner, or at least thought you were under some sort of influence or control. But I didn't, I just thought it was you. How can you not hate me? What kind of person thinks that about their partner?"

To be honest, as much as Jason had been trying to ignore that part — because it was _bullshit_ — part of him _was_ hurt about that. And he felt gross as hell when that guilty part of him felt better hearing Dick's self-loathing about it.

“Well that’s trauma for you," he stated bluntly. Because it was true; he _knew_ that, even when that little piece of him wanted to take it personally. Unfortunately for that little piece of him, though, Jason was well versed in ignoring stupid shit in his head, no matter how persistent it was. 

"You and I both know that," he continued, "but you just won’t accept that it applies to you because you’re still trying to make everything your fault somehow.”

“I’m not _making_ it into ‘my fault somehow',” Dick protested. “I actually—”

“I thought you didn’t want to argue anymore because you’re not gonna listen anyway?” Jason interrupted him.

Dick sighed, and consciously relaxed his muscles. “I said you weren’t going to get me to agree with you, not that I wouldn’t listen,” he groused, but it had no bite. “But yeah, I really don’t feel like arguing.”

Jason nodded, and they fell to silence for a few minutes.

"Do you want to head home?" Jason finally asked, and Dick nodded vaguely.

"In a minute."

Eventually they got up, and Jason looked around. There was no sign of Damian. Where the hell had he gone? 

“I...uh,” he said, looking down at the street and seeing that the Robincycle was gone.

Dick looked at him questioningly.

“I brought Damian with me, and he’s...gone. Bike too. Maybe he got bored and went back to Gotham?”

“Damian was with you and you didn’t say anything? He could’ve heard all of that? And you just expected to let him sit there the whole time?”

“There didn’t seem to be a good time to bring it up…”

Dick sighed. “And you lost him. Cool.”

“Hey, I feel sorry for the fucker who tries to abduct him; I’m sure he’s fine, okay?” Jason flicked his comm back on. “Robin?” he asked into it.

“Yes, Hood. Did you need something?” Damian responded tersely.

“Are you and Nightwing okay?” Bruce cut in.

“Yeah, B. We’re heading home, I just wanted to see where Robin had run off to.”

“I had already reported back, Batman. Is asking Hood as well truly necessary?”

“No need to be an asshole the one time B sounds like he cares,” Jason retorted (not missing the heavy sigh from Bruce at his words). “Why the hell did you run off? And not even say anything?”

“I did not wish to hear any more of that particular conversation.”

Damian still sounded tense and perhaps...angry? No that wasn’t quite right, but something was definitely wrong, something different than just hearing the details of Dick’s personal struggles. Jason thought back through his and Dick’s conversation, trying to think of what could possibly have sparked a reaction like that from Damian.

Ah...fuck. He’d mentioned what had happened with Talia.

“Shit, kid.” Jason scrubbed a hand over his brow. He didn’t really want to have this conversation — didn’t even know _how_ , really — but it _was_ about Damian’s mother, whom he was notoriously defensive of. “If this is because I mentioned T—”

“I don’t wish to have this conversation right now,” Damian interrupted him stiffly. 

“Listen, that’s not...what you heard isn’t the whole story, it’s not really like—” 

“I am on _patrol_. I’m working. I don’t care about your _‘story’_. Go take Nightwing home and get off the comms.”

“Fine,” Jason sighed. “Fuck, fine. Some other time. Red Hood out.”

“What the hell was that about?” Stephanie asked.

“None of your _business_ , Batgirl. Why don’t you worry about something useful and do your _job_ ,” Damian snapped.

Jason flicked the comm back off with a frown.

“What was that about?” Dick asked immediately.

“I think Damian’s upset because he heard me mention Talia. And the context wasn’t great, and it sounded like…”

Dick’s lips were pursed tightly, and his eyes were narrowed, the same way he always looked when Talia came up. “It _sounded like_ exactly what it _was_.”

“Shit, Dick, I can’t do this right now.” He mopped his hand over his face again. “It’s not that simple.”

“Oh _right_. Silly me, that’s what _I_ always say too. You know, when the mother figure who’s been taking care of me since I dug myself out of my grave as a teenager with no memories convinces me to have sex with her. Because I’m technically an adult now, so _that’s_ perfectly fine, even though I’m still like over a decade younger than her, and her ex is my father figure. _Oh wait_.”

“ _Dick_ ,” Jason said warningly. “Drop. It.”

“Fine.” The displeased tilt of Dick’s mouth didn’t change though. “So what are you going to tell Damian?”

“I don’t know. I feel like he deserves some explanation, and I don’t want him to...I mean she’s his _mom_. And she’s not the _best_ person, but she’s not the _worst_. I don’t really want to talk to him about it, though.”

“Not being the absolute worst is a low bar. He knows she’s not what anyone would call a _good_ person. He came to terms with that a long time ago, and you don’t have to tell him what happened or keep making excuses for her to try and make him feel better. You know how much I care about Damian, so believe me when I say he doesn’t need you to put yourself through that to come to terms with how he feels about Talia now, considering this new information. He’ll be fine.”

“He’s still going to want an explanation.”

“That doesn’t mean you owe it to him, Jay! He has people to talk to if he needs help sorting things out; he’ll be fine. _He_ isn’t the one still in denial after years.” Dick knew he shouldn’t keep pushing, especially since Jason had told him to drop it, but it slipped off his tongue. He just got so fired up over what had happened with Talia, and Jason’s consistent refusal to acknowledge it for what it was.

“ _Stop it._ ”

Dick threw his hands up. “I just don’t get how you can understand how fucked up it would be for me to do that to Damian, or Bruce to one of us, but you’re suddenly unable to apply the concept when it comes to _her!_ ”

“ _Dammit, Dick!_ Not right now! I cannot have this fucking conversation tonight! It’s different, okay? It’s just— I can’t— Just fucking leave it alone! I told you to leave it!”

Jason was working to keep himself from shouting and completely flying off the handle, but he was still clearly freaking out, and Dick instantly felt guilty. He’d _known_ that he was pushing when he shouldn’t, and he’d continued to do it anyway, even after Jason had asked him to stop.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, I...that was mean. I shouldn’t have pushed.” Jason had respected his own boundaries earlier, even when he was being difficult, and Dick had just repaid him by being more of an asshole. 

There was silence for several long moments as Jason calmed himself, but eventually he nodded. “Let’s just go home.” 

He didn’t say ‘It’s okay’, or 'I’m fine', and Dick knew it was intentional.

He wanted to reach out to Jason, hug him or something, but a big part of him cringed at the idea of so much bodily contact. He wanted to tell Jason he loved him, to reassure him somehow, but the words still just refused to come out. 

Instead, he just nodded back, and they shot out their grappling lines, heading down to the street toward their bikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's referenced in this chapter, I am providing a [link](https://aminoapps.com/c/comics/page/blog/6-creepy-sexual-encounters-in-comics/Xdig_uReVq5qDogY4GmzaWl4kVjBNZ) to the comic pages where Talia coerces Jay into having sex with her in _Red Hood: The Lost Days (Vol. 1) #6_ , for those who didn't read or want a refresher on what exactly happened.


	10. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's referenced in this chapter, I am providing a [link](https://www.quora.com/Did-Talia-al-Ghul-force-herself-on-Bruce-Wayne/answer/Jos%C3%A9-A-Zapata?ch=10&share=98032bb6&srid=XMCEU) to the comic pages referencing Talia raping Bruce in _Batman & Son, Part Two: Man-Bats of London_, for those who didn't read or want a refresher on what exactly happened.

A couple days later, Tim had finally contacted Black Canary and made an appointment to meet with her.

He only made it three minutes in the Watchtower before Bruce stormed up to him, a bemused Superman trailing behind.

“Red Robin. Just _what_ are you doing here?”

Tim sighed and turned to face him, looking beyond exhausted, even with the mask hiding his eyes.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Of _course_ it’s my business, you’re—”

“Fine,” Tim cut him off. If just telling Bruce would get him off his back quicker, then he didn't really give a shit about arguing right now. “It still _isn’t_ , but I’m going to talk to Black Canary.”

“Is this about a Birds of Prey case you're somehow involved in?”

Tim stuck his chin out petulantly, his anger bleeding through the fatigue that weighed him down.

“No. It’s not,” he said firmly.

“If this has to do with what happened on Sunday—”

“Of _course_ it has to do with Sunday!” Tim burst out.

“Then absolutely not,” Bruce shouted right back. “You don’t get to make decisions about other people’s personal information!”

Tim stomped right up to him, and pointed a finger in his face. “I haven't slept since then. I've not been able to _sleep_ for four _fucking_ days because I can’t stop hearing it. And I’m not the only one either!”

“ _Red Robin_ ,” Bruce warned, but Tim ignored him, plowing on.

“Batgirl, Signal, and Black Bat are all hearing it too still, they’re all having awful nightmares every night. And you know what? I told them to get some fucking therapy too, but they won’t because of _you_."

"Black Bat is _in_ therapy," Bruce interrupted.

“You know what I fucking mean, the others! And what about Robin, huh? How do you think he’s fucking dealing with it? He’s barely left his room since he finally came back after patrol Monday night — don’t think A doesn’t talk to me about that sort of thing.

“I know you and Oracle think you can just pretend it didn’t happen and throw yourselves into the case, but how are the rest of us supposed to deal with this? Have you thought about Red Hood? Do you even give a shit how extra fucking horrible that must have been for him? That he probably hasn’t even taken a second for himself because he’s too busy worrying about Nightwing?

“And I don’t even _want_ to think about how Nightwing’s probably dealing with it. Have you even reached out? Or done fucking _anything_ besides yell at him for going out on patrol, and yell at Hood for being on his fucking side?

“We _all_ need help. We’ve all _needed_ help forever, and you’re fucking delusional if you think we can all just _move on_ from something like that!”

Tim panted as he finished his rant.

“Are you done?” Bruce asked blankly.

“Yes.”

“Good. Go into the conference room. I’m not having this discussion in company.”

For the first time, Tim noticed that several Justice League members had arrived to investigate the yelling, and were standing around looking on in shock.

His blood boiled. Really? Bruce wanted to save face in front of them? Well fuck that.

“No! You’re just too chickenshit to admit you’re a bad father—”

“You do _not_ get to speak to me that way,” Bruce interrupted.

“Well fuck you, I’m going to! You’re a bad fucking father—”

“Red, I _know_ you’re angry right now—”

“No!!! Fuck you, and _listen to me_ : you don’t know how to deal with _anything_ , and you would clearly rather prioritize your fucking secrets over your children’s wellbeing like always!”

“And how do you think Nightwing would feel about you telling Black Canary everything that happened without his permission?” Bruce asked.

“I THINK HE'D CARE ENOUGH ABOUT MY FUCKING WELLBEING TO FORGIVE ME!” Tim screamed. “I’ve been fucking _useless_ all week and you _know_ it, I’ve been injured way more than usual on patrols because my response time is shit — and it’s not just me either, it’s _most_ of us. 

“The _moment_ I try to sleep I hear it happening again, the moment there’s any silence, the moment I try to even _read a goddamn thing_ I can’t stop hearing it. Do you? Or are you too busy going over the same stupid fucking feeds with Oracle to think about your own son?

“Do you even care about everything that’s led up to this happening the way it did? How something like this has happened at least _twice_ before, by my count, and apparently _none_ of us fucking knew about it? Do you give a shit? Or was that all just no problem for you to listen to?!”

Tim’s mouth twisted, and he continued, his voice harder. “You so badly want to be in charge? Well here’s your fucking decision: You either let me talk to Black Canary about _Nightwing_ , or I find some civilian therapist and tell them about _your son_ , how’s that?”

“You wouldn’t do that to Nightwing, you know those things have a way of getting out,” Bruce said calmly.

Tim let out a hysterical laugh. “Really? You really think I wouldn’t?! Because right now I’m feeling like I might do just about anything! So how about you let me talk to Canary before this turns into my fucking supervillain origin story!” He whirled on his heel, cape fanning out behind him, and stormed down the hall.

The assembled members of the Justice League were silent.

“So...things not so great at home right now, huh?” Hal piped up awkwardly.

“Shut your _mouth_ , Lantern,” Bruce growled, and whirled away in a fashion quite similar to Tim. Clearly that was where Tim had learned it.

“Am I the only one with more questions than answers now?” Hal asked. “Like what the _hell_ happened on Sunday?”

“I think it would be a breach of trust to pry. This is clearly a deeply personal matter,” Diana said. “I will make sure Red Robin gets to Black Canary without further incident. Kal…” She sighed. “Go find Batman. Clearly his children are hurting, he must see that.”

Clark nodded. “Yes. The trouble is getting him to listen.” But he disappeared down the hall after Bruce nonetheless.

When Diana caught up with Tim, he immediately went on the defensive.

“Here to lecture me for making a scene and yelling at Batman?”

“No,” She said. “I think you are brave for telling him what you know to be the truth, and seeking the help you need. I’m here to escort you to Black Canary without further incident.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

“Thanks, Diana,” Tim repeated when they arrived outside of Dinah’s office-of-sorts.

“Of course, Red Robin.”

He paused for a second. “Could I have a hug?”

She smiled, and bent to embrace him tightly.

“Call for me if you are still unable to sleep tonight, and we will solve this together.”

“Okay. Thank you.” He let go, and knocked on the door.

“Red Robin. I heard you had a bit of a hang up,” Dinah greeted him. “Martian Manhunter messaged me.”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m late. Batman and I kind of...got into a little argument.”

“Well, come in. Thank you for bringing him here, Wonder Woman.”

“Of course.” Diana nodded to both of them, and walked back down the hall.

“So. Red Robin,” Dinah said, closing the door behind them, and taking her seat. “Let’s talk about what brings you to my office.”

◇◇◇

By the end of the week, Jason finally managed to corner Damian in the Batcave. Thankfully it was otherwise empty, save for Bruce at the Batcomputer, far enough away that he likely wouldn't be able to hear them. And even if he did, it wasn't like he didn't already know.

"We should have that talk," Jason said.

Damian looked annoyed at being cornered, glaring down at his boots as he laced them. "Whatever. Talk, then."

Fuck, Jason hadn't thought this far ahead. Winging it was a supremely bad decision. "So…" he finally said, shifting uncomfortably. He crossed his arms. "I fucked your mom."

Damian's face twisted in distaste, but before he could say anything, Bruce whirled around in his chair.

"You _what?!_ " he demanded.

Oops. Apparently Bruce _could_ hear them.

Jason blinked at him, slowly taking in his shocked tone. Ah. He had _severely_ miscalculated.

"Did you… Did you not know that?" he asked carefully.

" _Why would I know that?_ "

Jason's brain felt like it was buffering like a video with a weak internet connection. "That was...sort of her whole plan? To make you mad?" It came out like a question. He was still stuck on the fact that _Talia had never told him_.

Bruce's jaw clenched. "How old were you?" questioned sternly.

"Uhhh…..eighteen?" Jason's brain still felt like it was buffering, and he couldn't figure out why Bruce cared about his age, of all things. He'd fucked Bruce's ex, the literal mother of his child, that seemed like plenty for him to be angry about.

" _Eighteen?_ " Bruce looked murderous.

"Um." Jason said. "Sorry?" he tried. He didn't know what Bruce wanted from him.

"Don't apologize," he said, closing his eyes for a moment. "This isn't on _you_." The last part came out in a growl, and he got up, pulling out his cellphone as he stalked toward the elevator, already scrolling through his contacts.

" _Talia_ ," Jason heard him hiss as the doors closed behind him. "How _dare_ you—"

Jason turned back to Damian slowly, wondering what the fuck had just happened. He couldn't tell if Bruce was...upset with him? Or…?

Damian was looking faintly green. _Eighteen_. That was only two years older than him, and Todd had been out of his mind for a good chunk of that time before he'd been dunked in the Lazarus Pit. The Pit, which had then addled his brain in _other_ ways. 

He also knew that his mother had been acting as a caretaker and a mentor to Todd. That would be like if _Richard_ …

When he'd heard Todd mention her during his conversation with Richard, heard what he was _implying_ , his knee jerk reaction had been to assume it was a lie and get angry on his mother's behalf. And when Richard had said what he'd said, Damian had _had_ to believe he was exaggerating, or misinformed, that he didn't truly know the situation.

Damian wasn't stupid, he knew his mother had done plenty of awful things — she had tried to _kill him_ , after all. And he knew how he was conceived, remembered vividly the moment when Bruce had popped Talia's rose-tinted bubble, her oft-repeated story of love and passion, by spitting at her that all he remembered was being drugged out of his mind. But...but Damian knew that he was created specially to be a warrior in a class above any other, and he thought that maybe, maybe she had been overcome with some sort of madness, desperation to complete her vision. It was a weak excuse, but one that he clung to, because she was still his _mother_.

But this...this implied a pattern.

"Um," Jason said. "So…"

"It's fine," Damian croaked out. "I don't— it's fine. You don't have to talk to me. I...understand."

He practically fled the Cave, leaving a very off-balance Jason by himself.

◇◇◇

The next morning, Jason found himself laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to Dick crying in the bathroom. 

It was only just past eight — they hadn’t been asleep for long — but, of course, Dick had woken them both up with another nightmare.

He sat up, and grabbed his phone from the bedside table, quickly scrolling through his contacts and pressing the call button.

“Hello?” a tired voice picked up after three rings.

“Barbie.”

“Jason? Everything okay?”

“Um, nothing...urgent. But not really. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“No, I...hadn’t gone to sleep yet, actually. Got caught up in work. What’s wrong?”

“Can I come over? I’m sorry, I just don’t know who else to talk to. I can’t talk to anyone outside the family, because I don’t feel right telling them about everything that’s happened without asking Dick. And you know I can’t talk to Bruce for shit, and everybody else feels weird because he’s like their big brother,” he blurted out.

“It’s okay,” Barbara sighed. “How soon can you get here?”

“Fifteen?”

“Perfect. I’ll make tea.”

“Thanks Barbie.”

She hung up, and Jason quickly got dressed. He dug around his desk, trying to find a loose piece of paper to leave a note on.

As he scribbled out a quick 'Going out for a little bit. Be back before noon. I love you', he heard Dick start retching. Lovely — it was _that_ part of the morning now.

He taped the note to the bedroom door, and left the flat quietly.

When he got to Barbara’s place, she must have been waiting for him, because the door opened almost as soon as he knocked.

“Hey. Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Yeah. It’s been a hellish week for all of us.”

He followed her into the living area and sat down in a cushioned chair.

“So,” Barbara said, picking up one of the mugs from the coffee table. “Spill.”

Jason sighed. “I just...I don’t know what to do. It’s been six days now, and _every_ morning,” his voice cracked. “ _Every morning_ he wakes up panicking and scrambles away like he’s terrified of me. And then he goes in the bathroom and cries for fucking _hours_ until he sobs so hard he literally makes himself sick. And I don’t know what to do!

“I’ve offered to sleep on the couch — I’ve even offered to go stay somewhere else for a bit, but he just insists that it’s _fine_ , and that he doesn’t want that, even though it could not more clearly _not_ be fine!

“But he refuses to talk to me. Literally beyond saying it’s fine and that he doesn’t want that, he will not talk to me about anything else at all important. He just leaves the room if I try. And I don’t want to push him, that’s not good either, but this can’t be okay!”

Barbara sipped her tea. “Shit. Okay.” She was quiet for a moment, thinking.

Jason dropped his face into his hands, unable to stop spilling his guts now that he’d started. “I can’t even _comfort_ him, it’s so fucked up. I’m afraid to even _talk_ to him when he’s upset, because the bastard used _my_ voice, _my_ face — he used _my own words_ while he was doing that. And I just don’t know how it’s ever supposed to be okay again."

He sighed, looking back up and continuing more quietly. “He doesn’t tell me he loves me anymore. And that’s okay, I get not wanting to say it right now, but I don’t even know if he _does_. I don’t even know how he _could_. For all intents and purposes, _I’m_ the one who attacked him. _I’m_ the one he has nightmares about, _I’m_ the one who sends him further into panic on sight, and _I’m_ the one who he doesn’t even trust enough to tell the most basic things anymore.”

“Jay, come on. He _knows_ it’s not _you_. It’s just difficult right now with it all so fresh, but he knows it's not you, even if his instincts are saying it is. I'm sure it's just harder to ignore those instincts when it's early in the morning and he was just dreaming about it like it was happening all over again. He _does_ trust you though — _you_ were the one who was able to talk him down and get him home after it happened. 

"And as for the rest," she said, "Dick doesn't love half-heartedly, you know that. He loves people with everything he has, and I have no doubt in my mind that he still loves you."

"Thanks," Jason mumbled, reaching forward for his tea and taking a slow sip. "Thanks. Just...it's all so _much_ and I have no idea what I'm doing. I never know if I'm making things better or worse, and it's a million times harder when he won't let me _in_." He scrubbed his free hand anxiously over his forehead. "I can only guess at what he's thinking and feeling, and it's hard to tell if it's just my anxiety talking or if I'm being realistic sometimes."

"How _could_ you know what you're doing?" Barbara asked, throwing a hand out in a half-shrug. "There's no way to prepare for something like this, and there isn't exactly a whole lot of information about what to do when something like this happens to a loved one. There's plenty about coping with it as the victim, but not much for someone in your position. 

"Have you considered that maybe it's not up to you to _do_ anything for him, though? Maybe all you can do right now is be there. Really, he's gotta work through this on his own, and you can be there to support him, but there's not really anything you can do to help. Have you even taken any time for yourself to work through how _you_ feel about everything that happened?"

"Have _you?_ " Jason shot back.

Barbara's mouth twisted. "Just because I'm not good at taking my own advice doesn't mean it's not good advice."

"That's fair."

She sighed. "Dick can be really tricky to read when he wants to be, and all I can really say is make sure he knows you're there for whenever he's ready and wait it out. I'm sure he'll start to open back up with time. Use that time to process everything and work on sorting yourself out — you can't help him if you're falling apart yourself."

They fell to silence for several long moments, and Jason sipped his tea slowly. "Okay," he finally said. "Okay, yeah. Thanks Barbie."

"Anytime," she said.

They fell back to silence for a few beats, before Jason asked, "So have you and Bruce managed to find anything out about what The Man's goal was?"

"No." She sighed again. "We're still waiting on him to wake up so Bruce can question him."

"I want in on that; tell me as soon as he wakes up."

"I don't really think that's a good idea."

He raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? I _deserve_ to be able to question him."

"Maybe it's not about who deserves it. I don't think you should be involved in the case — it's not going to do your mental health any good, you're too close to it."

"And you and Bruce aren't? I know the old man can be about as emotional as a brick wall sometimes, but I know that shit got to him. He's probably being all emo and 'I failed to protect him' over it. Like we aren't _all_ upset about that."

"It's different."

"The fuck it is. It's just because you know Bruce never works through his shit and he certainly isn't going to start now, and you're just holding out hope that I _will_."

" _Yes_ ," Barbara said. " _Exactly_. It's not doing to do you any good to be up close and personal with this."

Jason scowled. "It _will_. Getting revenge and _closure_ is exactly what's going to help me work through this."

"You're _not_ going to shoot a man already in the Intensive Care Unit.

"Try me."

Barabara closed her eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself. "And this is exactly why you're not going."

"He doesn't have to be awake for me to shoot him," Jason pointed out. "It's not as satisfying, but I could always save another bullet for when he's finally up and about. I could get in there anytime — hospitals aren't exactly hard to break into."

"Jason," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Please."

" _What?_ " he complained, throwing up his free hand. "Don't tell me he doesn't deserve it. And there was hardly anything wrong with his legs, I'd just be evening out the damage a little." He thought for a second. "He'd have a hell of a time with crutches or a wheelchair with those hands. I suppose that's part of the beauty, though."

" _Jason_ ," she repeated.

He looked utterly unrepentant, and Barbara levelled him with her strongest glare.

After a few tense moments of their stare-off, Jason finally cracked and sat back with a huff. "Fine. I still want to know when he wakes up though."

"I'll think about it," she said. 

She wouldn't, and they both knew it. 

"Now get out of my house so I can finally get some sleep."

◇◇◇

After a week and a half, Bruce finally gave up on insisting Dick go home and not patrol every night, but the atmosphere was still tense over the comms. Patrols were a much more solemn affair now, with much less joking banter between the bats.

Dick couldn't even bring himself to feel bitter that it was all because of him.

All of them continued to endlessly check in on him, and he found himself withdrawing more and more often rather than getting angry like he used to. It was just… Getting angry, having emotions at all, it just seemed like so much energy these days. Energy he didn't have. He couldn't really ever muster up the effort to be anything other than numb anymore.

He was grateful at least that, even though they'd surely noticed, nobody had mentioned Dick having reverted back to wearing his old costume. It wasn't hard to realize that the main difference (besides some small changes in graphics) was that the older model gave a nasty electric shock to anyone who tried to take it off without disarming it properly. He wouldn't know what to say if someone _did_ bring it up.

◇◇◇

Dick became particularly glad he'd switched back to his old costume a few days later, when he was taking down yet another petty thief.

"I'm so glad I got you, gorgeous. Fighting mean old Batsy wouldn't come with nearly as good a view," the woman purred.

"Don't you people ever get sick of being disgusting?" Dick ground out, kicking her in the knee. "Doesn't being creepy get boring?"

Even his comebacks didn't have nearly the bite they should, and he was aware that he sounded off his game. But it was just so hard to keep up the snappy Nightwing persona when he felt so numb.

She reached forward as her knee gave, managing to hook two fingers in the neck of his suit to bring him down with her, and her eyes flew wide as she convulsed before hitting the ground under him.

Dick wrenched himself back, hitting her arm away with an Escrima Stick with more force than really necessary. He quickly got off of her and back onto his feet.

"F— Ff—" She seemed to be having trouble catching her breath. "What the _fuck?_ " she finally got out.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?" he asked. "Better keep that in mind next time."

He pushed her over onto her front with the toe of his boot and planted a foot between her shoulder blades so she couldn't squirm away once she regained herself. 

"I— I just—" 

"Don't care." He cut off whatever she was going to say, bending at the waist to zip-tie her hands together. He wasn't too keen on getting right up against this one to cuff her.

Dick started to push her back over onto her back with his foot, and then paused.

"One more comment about me, or _anything_ about my ass and I'm leaving you here facedown," he warned.

"O-okay, I won't. Sorry," she said.

He pushed her over onto her back.

"Have a great night," he said drily, and grappled up onto the nearest roof.

"Don't," he said over the comms before anyone could check in. "Just don't say anything."


	11. Nine

"Shit shit shit shit, Batsy is _not_ gonna like this," Hal muttered to himself. He bit his lip for a moment, before finally giving in and calling for Batman over the JL communicator. He really hoped this wouldn't be a case of killing the messenger.

"This had better be important, Green Lantern. I was in the middle of something," Bruce's growl came through the comm. Well damn, he _already_ sounded pissed — although he kind of _always_ sounded pissed. Whatever. There was never any winning with Batman.

"Trust me, you're gonna want to see this," Hal said. "Or...hear this."

"What is it? Send it over the JL network."

Hal took a deep breath, and pasted the link. "I just want to preface this by saying I _wasn't_ looking for it, I was just chilling on Twitter, and I happen to follow a bunch of superhero tracker stuff and—"

"Just send the link, Lantern."

"Right." He pressed send.

He heard the moment Bruce opened it, the recording starting to autoplay with the now-familiar, breathy, "Holy shit, holy shit, holy _shit_ ," of the filmer, and the squeal of a protesting window being shoved open over top of the yelling from the rooftop. "—that feel, motherfucker? _Stronger?!_ You thought I was _stronger_ than that?"

Hal heard the tap, as Bruce paused the recording. 

"Thank you for telling me, Green Lantern. I'll speak with the rest of the JL."

Bruce ended the transmission before he could respond.

Well. That could've gone worse.

◇◇◇

As soon as he hung up on Hal, Bruce was contacting Barbara. " _Oracle_ ," he demanded, sternly.

"If this is about _the situation_ , I know, I know, I'm working on damage control right now," Barbara said.

" _How did this happen_ _?_ " 

"I fucked up, _I know_. I wasn't paying much attention, I was working on the case with you, and on some cases with the Birds of Prey, and I thought the first few alerts were nothing. Do you know how many people post whole blogposts or Reddit threads of some small snippet of noise they caught out of their window that they think is a vigilante? I only caught on when it made its way to Twitter this morning and started gaining traction, and now it's been reposted so many times I can't completely wipe it. People will have downloaded it and all I can do is just keep doing damage control."

Bruce sighed. "What are we going to tell Nightwing?"

"He already knows, I talked to him and apologized this morning when I found out. I told him to expect that Vicki Vale has probably already gotten a recording — there's almost no chance there won't be some stupid article about it. I've deleted a lot of the tweets, but it's still kind of blowing up."

Bruce sighed again. "Don't worry about it. It's too far gone now. Could you tell the rest of the bats, if they don't already know? Red Robin is calling me right now, so I'm betting he knows."

"Fine. You tell Red Hood though. You didn't catch it either."

He paused. "If Nightwing knows, he knows too."

"You're still calling him. He's called me three times and I can't keep sending it to voicemail."

Bruce heaved the most put-upon sigh yet. "Fine. Batman out." The investors in the Wayne Enterprises conference room would have to wait a few more minutes.

◇◇◇

Jason bit his lip, adjusted his headphones, and replayed the video.

By this point he was positive he had the whole seventeen minute and forty three second video memorized — from the frantic, hushed swearing of the civilian who'd made it at the beginning, to their rambling when he and Tim had showed up.

He was pretty sure he had the rambly explanation on the original post (predictably on the Batwatcher subreddit) memorized too:

> _I was just 'Wing watching for the night, not expecting to see shit, as usual (especially since he seems to be spotted in Gotham more often than here now), but then I saw Nightwing jump onto my apartment building's roof. Even wilder, *the Red Hood* fucking showed up a few minutes after; I don't think I've ever heard of sightings of him all the way in Blüd, but you gotta believe me. I didn't catch any pics, but I know what I saw. I thought they were both long gone (a few minutes later I heard a man saying "stop it, I said stop" or something like that and I just assumed it was someone on the street, but now I think it might've been Nightwing), but then like five or ten minutes later one of them started screaming — pretty sure it's Nightwing, you'll see why in the vid. Obviously, I started recording as soon as possible, almost dropped my fucking phone out the window._
> 
> _Fucking *Red Robin* and then Red Hood again showed up partway thru the vid, and then ALL the bats showed up at the end, it was fucking crazy. I grew up in Gotham and used to Batwatch all the time, and I never saw more than like 3 at once, absolute tops._
> 
> _You know the drill: download and repost as much as possible so it doesn't get completely wiped. I seriously can't believe I fucking caught this. Batman is gonna murder me. If I turn up dead, you know what happened._

The post was almost as frantic as their gibbering at the beginning of the video.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy _shit_ ," the filmer babbled, as they shoved their window open. 

"—that feel, motherfucker? _Stronger?!_ You thought I was _stronger_ than that? Does that feel fucking weak to you? You useless fucking goddamn piece of shit _bastard!_ Did you like that? Huh? Was it _worth it_ , you son of a bitch? Did that feel _good?_ " he heard Dick screaming.

"Oh my god," the person filming whispered. "Holy _shit_."

“Did you _enjoy_ tricking me into thinking someone I _cared_ about, someone I _trusted_ , was touching me? Was taking _advantage_ of me?” The voice in the recording took on an ever-more-hysterical note as he continued shouting.

"Did you think I needed another fucking rapist? You think I haven't _fucking_ been through enough? Think you get to put your grubby hands on me just because _you_ wanted to?" He let out a sob.

"I am so fucking _sick_ of this shit!" he said. "I am not a fucking sex toy! I am a _PERSON!_ " By the end his voice had ramped back up to a scream, somehow even louder and more hysterical than the last. "A **_person_** _!_ A living, breathing human being! And I am so goddamn _sick_ of you people. Do you fucking hear me?! I am _sick of this shit_. _**You do not get to just USE**_ _ **my**_ _ **body as a fucking TOOL to get yourself off**_."

Jason's heart ached at the pain in his voice and the dehumanization he'd been made to feel.

“Please!” A different voice shrieked, pleading.

“ _You don’t get to talk now_ ,” Dick thundered. “You _did_ your fucking talking. Now you listen to _me_. The next time you speak, it will be to beg forgiveness at the feet of whatever higher power may exist — and I _pray_ that they are even less merciful than me."

There was an awful, ear-splitting shriek.

“Where’s your magic now, huh? You can make yourself look and sound like someone else, but you can’t defend yourself?” 

The voice screaming in pain broke painfully in the middle. It was incoherent — the scream of one whose entire _world_ is pain, with no room for anything else.

Dick's voice dropped so that it was unintelligible in the recording, and Jason didn't know if it was because he remembered how Dick had sounded through the comms, or if the recording had caught how cold and mocking his tone was.

"—hope you fucking _enjoyed_ touching me, because you’re never gonna touch anything else ever again." Dick's voice raised to an audible level again, though it was partially drowned out by the screaming that began again toward the end.

“Is this what you wanted? Huh? _Is this what you fucking wanted?_ " His voice was back to hysterical. "Nobody's gonna fucking miss you, you waste of fucking _air_ —" his voice caught on another sob, and the voice screaming in agony broke again.

Jason felt sick, but he didn't stop the shaky video, which mostly just showed the shadowed brick of the apartment building next door with the occasional glimpse of the window frame.

Dick's voice had dropped again so the words couldn't be made out anymore, and abruptly the screaming stopped.

The disturbing silence only seemed to incense him further, though, and he continued ranting back at full volume. "Stupid dumbshit goddamn mother _fucker_ , fuck you, fuck you, _fuck you!_ I hope you feel every bit of suffering I'm going to feel; I hope _every single time_ I think about this, you're overcome with pain so bad you can't fucking _breathe_. I hope you never recover from tonight, and I hope you choke on every damn breath you take when I'm having nightmares. You like magic so much?! I hope you fucking like it then, you sack of irredeemable shit! I hope you fucking enjoy it when I resurrect your worthless corpse just to make you suffer more. Is this what you thought was gonna happen? Huh? Is this what you thought of when you were _planning_ this? Is it worth it? Was it fucking _worth it?_ " 

There were a couple beats of silence, and then the ever-increasing roar of motorcycles before the civilian filming spoke up again in a rushed whisper. "Oh my god. Oh my god nobody's ever going to believe me. I swear to fucking god, Red Hood just jumped from the roof next to my building onto mine — I didn't catch it, but holy shit — and Red Robin just pulled up like a bat out of hell at the same time. He's just idling on his bike on the street right below my fucking window staring up at the roof." 

The camera was shaky, but Tim could clearly be seen on the street below. "What is he doing— oh holy shit, I think he saw me." The video blurred as the filmer scrambled backward. "I hope I got some footage of him, I'm too scared to go back to the window — I don't want the bats to fucking delete this shit, I've had pics go missing before."

All that could be heard from the roof was indistinct mumbling for several minutes, before there was a sharp bark of laughter that broke off into sobbing.

"Holy shit," the civilian mumbled again. "I think Nightwing's fucking lost it. I don't— well, I haven't heard any gunshots so I guess the Red Hood isn't putting anybody out of their misery." 

"Stop drawing it out! I can't deal with this again. I can't…" Dick's voice faded into mumbling again at the end.

"Definitely losing it," the filmer commentated. "I probably would be too, though." They listened for another few long minutes. "That might be all for tonight, I can't hear shit. Red Robin's still on the street below my window, though. I don't know if I should...turn it off? 

"I should probably upload this ASAP so people can start reuploading before the bats can delete it. Don't wanna miss anything though— oh fuck, oh fuck," the camera shakily tilted up out the window and caught several shadows moving toward the rooftop, and a blur of red and black as Red Robin grappled up. "That's like. Holy shit, like _all_ the bats and birds and _everyone_ is, like, converging on the roof. What the fuck, I've never seen so many in one place at once — did I get that? Please tell me I caught at least some of them on video."

A siren sounded in the distance, and a door slammed. "Fuck, was that the roof door? Jesus fuck oh my god that's the Batmobile."

The camera shakily tilted out the window onto the street below where the bright yellow of the Signal's costume was plainly visible as he helped put... _something_ into the backseat of the Batmobile.

"Oh my god, _oh my god_ is that the person Nightwing was beating the shit out of? Jesus, there's no way they're alive, that's prob'ly why Red Hood didn't bother to shoot 'em — I wonder if Bats is getting rid of the body. He's all _justice_ , but I bet he'd hide a body for Nightwing. There's no way one of them hasn't fucked up and killed someone at least once."

The Batmobile tore off with a squeal of tires, and the person filming sighed. "I guess that's it."

The video ended, and rather than clicking replay for a fourth time, Jason scrolled down the replies.

He had been watching a reupload on Twitter, and the replies were, predictably for Twitter, all over the fucking place.

> **SEXY IN A RAT KINDA WAY @gthmbbydoll**  
>  "The next time you speak it will be to beg forgiveness at the feet of whatever higher power may exist & I pray that they are even less merciful than me" What a fucking RAW ASS LINE oh my g-d. Like I feel bad for Nightwing, but also HOLY SHIT
> 
> **↳Blüdhaven Bitch @loserloserloser**  
>  @gthmbbydoll Ikr??? Like. Not glad he was in the position to have to say that but like,,,,,,,,,,,,WHAT A LINEEEE
> 
> **↳Robin is my son uwu @bbrobin**  
>  @gthmbbydoll @loserloserloser Idk still kinda feels disrespectful to make light of??
> 
> **↳SEXY IN A RAT KINDA WAY @gthmbbydoll**  
>  @bbrobin That's fair

> **💕🌸Princess🧚🏼♀️✨ @gothamslut**  
>  Hnng, anybody else think Nightwing absolutely just fucking losing it is kinda hot? Like,,,,babe SNAPPED. Always had a thing for bad boys ig 😩🥵 Damn. Wish we could've SEEN it.
> 
> **↳KATHY'S BAT ACCT @batsnburds**  
>  @gothamslut Yikes, read the fucking room, he just got r*ped, maybe don't thirst after him rn????
> 
> Like did you miss the whole section of the recording about not objectifying him????????
> 
> **↳Nightwing's Baby Mama @NgtwngsA$$**  
>  @batsnburds Chill, it's Not That Deep. We all know Nightwing's the hottest vigilante out there so mind ya business and keep scrolling. Thirsting's a god given RIGHT with an 🍑 like that 👀😜🤤
> 
> **↳💕🌸Princess🧚🏼♀️✨ @gothamslut**   
>  @NgtwngsA$$   
>  [WendyWilliamsWarpedSip.jpg](https://images.app.goo.gl/VD3BejbJHpv4DcZcA)
> 
> **↳OwO *glomps you* @batmanisafurry**  
>  @gothamslut @NgtwngsA$$ Ya'll r the literal worst of the worst wtf who says that. Gross.
> 
> **↳KATHY'S BAT ACCT @batsnburds**  
>  @gothamslut @NgtwngsA$$  
> [WhatCanISayExceptDeleteThis.gif](https://images.app.goo.gl/PRm6UP7ZWWosBvoj9)

> **Wonder Woman step on me @mccrick87**  
>  Final proof Nightwing is the worst "superhero" (if you can even call him that). Didn't fight the guy til AFTER? Weakkkkkk
> 
> **↳YEEHAW TIME🤠 @greenlanternbabeyyy**  
>  @mccrick87 FUCK YOU
> 
> **↳Comrade Elmo @MetropolisHateAcct**  
>  @mccrick87 fuck u
> 
> **↳Scarecrow Suck My Fking Ass** **@bootythief**  
>  @mccrick87 Fuck you!!!!!
> 
> **↳Superman fanboy @supesismyreligion**  
>  @mccrick87 Way to fucking victim blame, asshole. Men can be raped too. He's not weak for it happening wtf is wrong with you
> 
> **↳OwO *glomps you* @batmanisafurry**  
>  @mccrick87 Nvm, THIS guy is the literal worst
> 
> **↳Wonder Woman step on me @mccrick87**  
>  @greenlanternbabeyyy @MetropolisHateAcct @bootythief @supesismyreligion @batmanisafurry WHY ARE YOU BOOING ME I'M RIGHT! WHY IS HE EVEN IN THE JUSTICE LEAGUE, WEAK ASS BITCH
> 
> **↳🌱 @poisonivystan**  
>  @greenlanternbabeyyy @MetropolisHateAcct @bootythief @supesismyreligion @batmanisafurry
> 
> @mccrick87 is right, you're all just on Nightwing's side because he's pretty. Nightwing's not gonna fuck you, give it up!  
> [TheyHatedJesusBecauseHeToldTheTruth.jpg](https://images.app.goo.gl/ST7Yq2ov9BzSdD8P8)
> 
> **↳One Bitch Two Bitch @RedBitchBlueBitch**  
>  @mccrick87 @poisonivystan fuck you!
> 
> **↳Red Robin ✅ @ActualRedRobin**  
>  @mccrick87 Fuck you, you don't know jack shit u sentient shitstain  
> And @poisonivystan ur a fucking disgusting excuse for a human being
> 
> **↳Scarecrow Suck My Fking Ass @bootythief**  
>  @mccrick87 @poisonivystan ^^holy fuck, you guys even got Red Robin out here to tell you what dicks you are (and once again, fuck you)
> 
> **↳** ** 23 more replies **

> **One "It's Not Unusual" @batstanbabe**  
>  "Did you think I needed another fucking rapist?"  
> *another*   
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥  
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥  
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥
> 
> **↳Rat King @allmyuwus**  
>  @batstanbabe "i am not a fucking sex toy. i am a PERSON. a PERSON. a living breathing human being."  
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥  
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥  
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥  
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥  
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥  
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥  
> 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥
> 
> All the Nightwing thirst and the ass jokes are starting to feel really icky now
> 
> **↳One "It's Not Unusual" @batstanbabe**  
>  @allmyuwus Agreed
> 
> **↳🤡🤡🤡 @BooBooTheFool**  
>  @batstanbabe @allmyuwus Who could have predicted that objectifying and dehumanizing ppl was bad and gross, actually /s
> 
> **↳Rat King @allmyuwus**  
>  @BooBooTheFool no need to be a dick. Like everybody does it, and it's mostly a joke. It's not like we *knew*
> 
> **↳🤡🤡🤡 @BooBooTheFool**  
>  @allmyuwus Yeah that's kinda the point. You never know what people have been through. Which is why you shouldn't do it at all

> **Red Hood can GET IT😤 @vigilantewatchh2**  
>  Ngl hope Nightwing actually beat him to death….dude deserved it #KillAllRapists
> 
> **↳Trent @batmanisbetterthanyou**  
>  @vigilantewatchh2 How can you joke like that?????? The vid was fucking disturbing. Like hello? Do you want vigilantes to just murder people now??
> 
> **↳Red Hood can GET IT😤 @vigilantewatchh2**  
>  @batmanisbetterthanyou I wasn't joking……… but go off ig (i said what i said lol)

Jason closed twitter and let out a sigh. Yeah, he really shouldn't have been looking at this shit in the first place.

He felt kind of better though, knowing Tim had seen that asshole's tweet. He had no doubt that Tim had already installed malware on all the asshole's (and, no doubt, his stupid friend's too) devices. Small victories.

"It's fine, I'm fine," he heard Dick say from the living room — for probably the fourteenth time that day. People had been calling nonstop pretty much all day. 

Clark had been the first, and Jason had sleepily picked up while Dick was having his morning meltdown in the bathroom. Clark had had to go back to work — which was where he'd found out about the situation — but he'd promised to call back later on his lunch break. Diana had always been Jason's favorite since he was a little kid, but he had to admit Clark had a comforting way about him.

Talking with him like that had reminded Jason of when he was Robin, before he died, and the way Clark would mediate between him and Bruce. Or hearing from Bruce how Clark was once again getting involved with the arguments between Dick and Bruce. No matter what, he knew he could trust Clark to have Dick's back — even with his insistence that he should have _heard_ , should have been able to intervene. Jason had just tiredly told him to shut up.

"Uncle Clark...come on. You may be Superman, but you can't be expected to hear literally everything at once. You were busy with Luthor's shenanigans again, it's not your fault."

Babs had called next, thankfully once Dick was done in the bathroom. Dick had sounded utterly apathetic as he'd talked to her, accepting everything she told him with a dead-sounding voice.

The calls had barely let up since then (including an awkward and unfortunate call to Jason from Bruce). Diana, Roy, Donna, Selina, Kory, Wally, Kate, and plenty of others Jason hadn't caught had all called Dick, trying to check in. He'd tried to tell Dick it was okay to turn off his phone, because he was clearly (and understandably) upset, but Dick had just shook his head and picked up the next incoming call.

At least all the calls were hopefully keeping him off of social media.

◇◇◇

The next day, it didn't matter whether Dick had managed to stay off of social media or not. The Gotham Gazette had run a stupid fucking editorial asking 'DO GOTHAM VIGILANTES HAVE TOO MUCH LEEWAY?' which was, of course, all about the video.

> _A video has surfaced over the past few days, which appears to contain audio of the vigilante known as 'Nightwing' beating a person to death in Blüdhaven. The audio is graphic, and viewer discretion is advised should the reader seek it out._
> 
> _The audio seems to imply that Nightwing's violent actions were a reaction to the victim having raped him. As citizens of this city, though, we must ask ourselves: is it safe to allow someone who commits such acts to run about unchecked? Nightwing has been known to show up in Gotham often, and no matter the circumstances, murder — or attempted murder — is still a crime. How can we feel safe knowing that at any time a vigilante could decide to take a life?_
> 
> _Nightwing has already stepped over the line before. Several years ago, he turned himself and a fellow vigilante in for the murder of Blüdhaven resident Mr. Roland Desmond. He was acquitted, but now that he has shown himself willing to step over the line again, is it safe to let him continue to walk a free man?_

The whole article was utter bullshit, but at least plenty of people didn't seem to agree with it; #fuckthegothamgazette and #istandwithnightwing were trending on Twitter.

"I don't care about it," Dick had said, when Jason tried to bring the article up over breakfast. "I just don't care, they can say whatever they want."

He still sounded dead and numb, but Jason decided to let it go and instead focus on action. A nice, strongly-worded letter to the Gazette couldn't go wrong.

◇◇◇

Jason found himself smiling at the editorial page a day later. They were still being stubborn assholes, but it was a step up from yesterday's article.

> _Yesterday our office received a package containing a threatening note signed by the Red Hood — another Gotham vigilante who has shown himself willing to commit murder — along with a loaded gun. Unfortunately, the Gotham City Police Department was unable to obtain any fingerprints or DNA from either. The gun, however, appears to be the murder weapon used in several drug- and gang-related homicide cold cases._
> 
> _The note, which was in relation to yesterday's article, listed (along with some rather unsavory language toward our writers) the name and personal information of the victim of the violence displayed by the vigilante known as Nightwing in the recording that we reported on yesterday. The note also said that this man (who will remain unnamed) is currently a patient at Gotham General Hospital, and not, as we (and the unnamed maker of the aforementioned recording) speculated, dead._
> 
> _Our reporters were able to confirm that the man in the note is indeed in Gotham General Hospital in the Intensive Care Unit, comatose and in critical condition; however, there is no proof that he is actually the victim. Certain injuries point to it being a possibility, or even perhaps likely, but there is no definitive proof._

◇◇◇

"So. What did you want to talk about?" Jason finally asked, stuffing another fry into his mouth and shifting on the uncomfortable vinyl of the shitty diner booth seat.

Kory sighed and leaned her head on her hand. "Just...Dick. I am worried about him, and I do not know whether it is really my place to try to help, since I really...did not do a good job last time. I do not want to fail him again, though."

"Right," Jason said, trailing a fry through ketchup and not looking up at her. "The Mirage incident. I've been meaning to ask about that. What exactly happened?"

She looked down at the table, frowning. "There is not much to tell. She pretended to be me, they slept together, and the next day she dropped it on us both. He had no idea, but I was so mad, I…I did not handle it well. I felt betrayed, but that is no excuse — I said some awful things. I… I kept asking him which one of us was better, and Pantha called him a slut and I just...let her."

Jason blew out a slow breath. "You're my friend and you know I love you, but...fuck you. You know he still thinks that, right? Right after it happened, he called himself a slut."

Kori closed her eyes. "I am sorry," she said quietly. "I am sorry. I apologized later, once I had thought about the situation and realized he was in a worse position than I was, but…that does not really make up for it. I should not have guilted him over it in the first place, and I should not have let her say that. It was not his fault."

They fell to silence for a bit before she spoke up again.

"I should have known. When I broke up with him, he seemed convinced it was about that, no matter how I tried to explain that it was not."

"You guys broke up when I was dead, right?" Jason asked.

"Not long after you died, yes. I had hoped that after _nine years_ we would be able to be on better terms. As I am sure you have noticed, we have been pretty distant ever since then. I have tried to be a friend, but we are more like acquaintances, and apparently nearly a decade has not changed that. I do not know how to be there for him right now."

"He never says anything bad about you, I don't think he dislikes you."

Kory sighed again, and stole one of Jason's fries. "Well that is just it, is it not? He does not _dis_ like me, but he is not particularly fond of me either. I just...do not know if that means me trying to get involved and be supportive is just making things worse, or…"

Jason shook his head. "Wish I had an answer, but I don't think I do. Just...do whatever seems right to you. A lot of times I think even _I'm_ making it worse by trying to be there for him, so… I really don't know."

Kory nodded tiredly and stole another fry. "Okay, yes, I suppose. Do you have any leads on the new Outlaws case you sent out?"

"Yeah…"

By the time Jason was done having lunch with Kory, his spirits were much higher. They immediately plummeted again, however, when he entered the flat to hear Dick crying again.

"I'm sorry Donna, I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," he heard through the wall, and he sighed, turning back around and leaving the apartment quietly.

He got back onto his bike and started it up, sending out a quick text and then taking off again.

◇◇◇

Back in the bedroom, Dick took his phone away from his face after it chimed, indicating he had a message. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes.

"Hold on a second Donna, I got a message."

**Jay🐥💕🥰**

> **I'll bring home stuff to make dinner around 7 okay? Love you💙**  
>  4:16 PM

"It's from Jay. He's being horribly nice again. I hate this, I don't know how to handle it. I feel like I'm just taking advantage and turning around and being an asshole and pushing him away, but I don't know how to stop. And especially in the mornings, when it's so fresh in my mind all over again, he's right there and it's _him_ — he looks the same, he sounds the same — and it's just so hard to remember that it _isn't_ him, and—" he cut off on another sob. 

"And— I know it's not really him, I do, I know he would never, but I just keep remembering when it was happening, the betrayal was the worst part. Thinking he'd planned it, thinking he didn't care, that he wasn't going to stop. I can still feel it, exactly how it felt, the fear, the panic. Even though I know it's not him, my instincts say it is."

Donna made a sympathetic noise. "I'm sorry Dickie, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to tell you; I can listen but I don't know what to tell you. Does it help if maybe he's not there when you wake up? Maybe he could sleep on the couch, or stay at Roy's place or another of your safehouses for a bit or something?"

Dick sniffled again and wiped his face with his sleeve. "He offered to, but I feel even more like an asshole kicking him out of his own apartment."

"Well if he _offered_ —"

"Still," Dick cut her off. "He offers all sorts of shit, I would still feel bad taking him up on it. He's already being so understanding and I don't want to push it." He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was small and shaky. "I'm so fucking afraid it's gonna be too much one day and he's gonna leave me just like Kory did. 

"I just don't want him to leave me." Dick sounded genuinely scared. "I don't want him to leave me, I need him here, as selfish as that sounds. I love him, I want him around, and he's still a major part of my support system, but at the same time it's so _hard_ to have him here when he looks and sounds like… I don't know. It's complicated. I don't know _what_ I want. I never seem to know anymore. And I just can't stop pushing him away and I'm terrified it's finally gonna be too much."

"Oh Dick, he's not gonna leave you, he loves you."

Dick let out a short, humorless laugh. "You don't know that. Just love isn't enough, Donna, don't be naïve. He's gonna wake up and realize any day now that he doesn't have to be dragged down by me."

"Dick..." There was a beep, and she sighed, apparently giving up on trying to talk him out of his pessimistic thoughts. "Wally's calling me. Do you want me to add him to the call?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

There was another beep, and then, "Hey Donna!"

"Hi Walls," Dick said.

"I was just talking to Dick and I added you to the call, I hope you don't mind," Donna said.

"Not at all! I was gonna call you next anyway, Dick. How you holding up?"

"Ehhhh," Dick said. "Just. Ehhhhhhhhh."

"That's fair; what's up with _you_ , Donna?"

"Not much. I think Diana has been hooking up with Mera and Arthur, and it's getting a bit awkward because she's trying to hide it from me for some reason."

"Ooh spicy," Wally said, and Donna and Dick both laughed. "I suppose she's a good choice though, since she can actually go to their place underwater without dying, right? Although I suppose there's always Clark."

Donna snorted. "I'm pretty sure Lois isn't one for sharing, but who knows. Plus, they can make those air bubbles for people, right? I bet Batman has some sort of underwater scuba suit or something too."

"Ew, I don't want to think about Batman getting laid, it's too weird. Him and Catwoman's shit is weird enough without _more_ ," Wally said.

"Yeah, I'd rather not think about...that," Dick agreed. He did actually really like Selina, but their...relationship _was_ pretty fucking weird. The animal personas weren't really a help with that.

"Just wait until you guys find out how you were made," Donna teased.

"Oh, did B birth me now?" Dick asked, at the same time Wally said, "You're made of clay, you don't get to talk."

Donna laughed so hard she snorted, and eventually the other two joined in.

"I concede, enough talk about that sort of thing," she finally said, when she caught her breath. "How's Linda doing?"

"Oh, fine," Wally responded. "I'm pretty sure she still loves the cat more than me, but what's new? He's got a nice new cat condo, which he hasn't used once. The box it came in, however…"

"Cats," Dick and Donna said in unison.

"Exactly," Wally sighed. "Cats."

◇◇◇

Dick felt a lot better after talking with Donna and Wally for a few hours. Jason had come home at some point and was singing show tunes to himself as he cooked, and Dick found himself humming along to The Phantom of the Opera as he put away the clean laundry that had been dumped on Jason's desk chair the past weekend. Whatever Jason was cooking smelled amazing.

Jason tapped on the bedroom door and nudged it open. "Dinner's ready, sweetheart. You going out on patrol with me after?"

"Yeah. One second," Dick said, finishing folding a shirt, and setting it on the pile.

Jason set his plate down in front of him as he slid into his chair at the table.

"Thanks Jay," he said warmly.

"Mhm." Without thinking, Jason tilted his head down and puckered his lips for a quick kiss. 

Dick felt his good mood dissipate. Right. This was real life, where he was constantly holding his boyfriend at arms length and disappointing him. He shook his head slightly and looked down at his plate.

Jason grimaced. Ah, fuck. He'd already done that like half a dozen times in the last couple of weeks. He really didn't mean to, it was just an automatic muscle memory thing, but he knew that didn't really help the situation.

Sure, Jason apologized every time, but that didn't mean it wasn't potentially making Dick feel pressured or guilty. Really, Jason didn't have a problem at all with the reduced contact — he missed it sometimes, but what he missed was how it _used_ to be, not how it would actually be if he tried to kiss him now. The issue was, he was well aware if he didn't get a handle on himself and stop fucking up, it wouldn't matter what he _said_ , Dick would still think that he was getting impatient about not being able to touch or kiss him. 

He pulled out his own chair, and sat down heavily, laying his hand on the table next to Dick's but not touching. 

"Sorry sweetheart, I'm just on autopilot."

Dick nodded vaguely, still not looking at him, and nibbled on his garlic bread.

"I'm not…" Jason took a deep breath, wiping his other hand over his face. "I can't tell if I'm making things better or worse by saying all this every time, or if you even believe me. But I really am okay with this, and I'm not trying to push you or anything."

There was a small clink as Dick dropped his bread back onto the plate. He picked up his fork instead, and pushed his food around in silence for a few minutes before finally speaking up.

"I miss kissing you," he mumbled. "I just…it's…" he trailed off with a sigh, and let his fork fall onto the plate too.

"Hey. _Dickie_. Look at me?"

Dick finally met his eyes.

"It's okay," Jason said, trying to channel all the reassurance and conviction he had in him into his eyes and voice.

He laid his hand on top of Dick's — slowly, giving him time to move away if he wanted.

"This alright?"

Dick nodded, and flipped his hand under Jason's so he could intertwine their fingers. Jason stared down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the side of Dick's, and had a sudden thought.

He only debated for a minute before deciding, fuck it, why not ask? The worst that could happen was Dick calling him an idiot.

"So, uh, feel free to call me a fuckin' nerd and shove me into a locker…" he started, and Dick sighed. This was surely going somewhere eventful. 

"But, you remember when I made you watch the original Star Trek series with me?" Jason continued. 

"I'm unlikely to forget. Not that it wasn't good, it was just…long."

"Okay, yeah, well I watched all of Grey's fuckin' Anatomy for you, so—" he paused, interrupting himself. " _Anyway_. Not everyone kisses with their mouth."

Dick's brows furrowed. "What are you even _talking_ about?"

Jason made a frustrated noise, and held his free hand out toward Dick with the first two fingers together and extended forward, and the rest curled into a loose fist.

Dick looked dubiously down at it.

"Like _Vulcans?_ " Jason pressed, and he saw understanding finally dawn in Dick's eyes.

Oh great, and now Dick was laughing at him. It was very quiet, almost under his breath, but he was definitely laughing.

"You're _absolutely_ a fucking nerd and I'm going to find a locker just to shove you into," he said, but he extended the fingers of his free hand the same way, and pressed the pads to Jason's.

A small smile played around the corners of Dick's mouth, and Jason couldn't help but grin back. He crooked his fingers slightly against Dick's, and...this was actually kind of nice. Not the same as regular kissing, obviously — they were just two humans, not Vulcans with extra sensitive fingertips — but there was a nice solidness to it. A centralized, reassuring contact, a bit of pressure just to say _I'm here and I care about you_.

"Well maybe I am, but I _did_ find a solution," Jason said, still grinning.

Dick looked at him with such softness that Jason felt a small lump start to rise in his throat.

"God, I love you _so_ much."

Jason swallowed hard in an attempt to speak normally. "Love you too, angel."

He didn't want to fuck things up by drawing attention to it, but Dick had actually said it. He'd said he loved him. For the first time since That Night, he'd actually said it — and not even just in response to Jason saying it, but completely unprompted on his own.

Dick still loved him.

"You're really stupid," Dick added, in the same unbearably soft, adoring voice. 

Jason's smile widened. " _Yeah_ ," he agreed fervently.

Dick _actually still loved him_.

He didn't mind being called stupid. It was, after all, probably true — he'd done and said plenty of stupid things in his life. But he thought he rather liked his stupid ideas if they got him this.


	12. Ten

Jason was rudely awoken the next day by three harsh knocks on the front door.

"Hello?" he heard, and the knocking started again.

He could hear Dick crying in the bathroom as usual, so clearly _he_ wasn't going to get the door. Ugh. Jason groaned and rolled out of bed reluctantly. "One minute," he called out, grabbing a shirt and yanking it over his head. It was probably the landlord about something stupid again.

He yanked open the front door, and was met with the sight of two cops. His stomach dropped.

 _Fuck_ he hated cops, and didn't trust them for shit, and it certainly didn't help that he had no idea why the fuck they were there.

"Can I help you?" he finally said, as calmly as possible.

"Are you Mr. Peters?" one of them asked.

"Yeah that's me." This apartment was leased under 'Jason Peters', and the landlord and neighbors all knew him by that name.

"Is Mr. Grayson here?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?" he asked carefully. His hackles were up, but he didn't want to sound too combative. He hadn't missed the way both of their hands had inched closer to their guns when they saw him. Cops weren't exactly known for giving physically intimidating brown men the benefit of the doubt, and even less so angry ones.

"We need to speak to him."

"Can I get a reason why?" One of their hands inched closer to the gun holster again, and Jason stood very still. "It's just not a super great time right now," he said.

"Sorry, it can't wait," the one in front said, not sounding sorry at all. "Domestic violence report, we have to check he's okay."

Jason blew out a breath. "That's a new one," he muttered. Fucking Mr. and Mrs. Donovan downstairs — he just _knew_ it was them. They were insufferable busybodies, and they _hated_ Jason. He was pretty sure they were racist too — always on some utterly unsubtle stuff about 'illegals' while side-eyeing Jason — but they seemed to make an exception for Dick, even though he was darker-skinned than him. He really was irresistibly charming. 

Then again, maybe they just really hated hispanic people and everybody else was fine.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, just uhm, hold on a second, let me get him." 

He heard Dick vomiting, and saw both cops look past him toward the bathroom. Well this wasn't going to be fun.

He glanced back at the cops as he headed toward the bathroom. He was pretty sure he should have invited them in or something, but it was never a good idea to let a cop in without a warrant — who knows what the fuck they'd start looking through.

Thankfully they stayed in the doorway and didn't come in after him.

He tapped lightly on the bathroom door, and heard Dick give a miserable cough. "Sweetheart?"

"Please, not now, Jay. Just...leave me alone. I know you want to help, but you _can't_ , so please just let me be miserable alone."

Jason glanced back at the cops again, and then turned fully to the door, lowering his voice. "Dick, you know I wouldn't bother you right now if it wasn't important. Can I please open the door?"

Dick sighed, and there was a pause, before the door opened a crack. "What, Jay? What is so important?" he asked, wiping at the tear tracks on his cheeks with the back of his hand and refusing to look up at him from where he was kneeling in front of the toilet.

Fuck, this sucked. Jason knew he was the last person Dick wanted to see or hear right now when That Night was still so fresh in his mind. It couldn't really be avoided, though.

He crouched down to his level even though Dick was still staring down at the toilet away from him. "I'm sorry pumpkin, seriously, it's just, umm...somebody called the cops — I guess because of all the crying — and they need to talk to you and make sure you're okay."

" _Fuck_ ," Dick said with feeling, clenching his eyes shut for a moment. "Fuck. Okay. Hold on, just. Give me a minute." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Go talk to them before they get impatient."

He shut the bathroom door again, and Jason stood up, walking back to the cops at the front door.

"Okay, he's coming, he just...wants to clean up some. He'll just be a minute."

The one slightly behind the other cop tapped her foot. "Fine," she said. She crossed her arms, and the three of them all stood there awkwardly, waiting for Dick.

Finally, the bathroom door opened, and Dick came to the door.

"I'm sorry, thank you for waiting," he said, his friendly, personable mask firmly in place, though his eyes were still slightly red and puffy. "Jay? Could you…?" He turned to him and made a shooing motion with his hand.

"Yeah." Jason gratefully retreated into the bedroom and shut the door, leaning back against it and releasing a deep sigh. They weren't in the clear yet, but just being out of the presence of the cops was a relief.

He was slightly worried about Dick, but he was a charmer and he would likely be okay.

Dick leaned against the doorframe and put on a small smile.

"I heard you're here on a domestic violence report, I'm sorry to waste your time here. I used to be a police detective in Blüdhaven," he pointedly didn't mention quitting because of the toxic environment, and the toxicity of cops in general, "so I understand that you have to check in, but everything's fine here."

The cop in front cleared his throat. "I see, so you understand we have to ask some questions."

"Of course," Dick said calmly.

"Could you explain the prolonged crying every day for the past week or so that the downstairs neighbors have reported?"

"Yes, I've been having night terrors. When I wake up, I have trouble calming down for a while afterward."

"You're talking to us just fine now," the other one pointed out, and Dick turned his smile on her.

"Yes, well these are extenuating circumstances," he said politely.

"And these night terrors just started suddenly?" the male cop asked suspiciously.

"...Yes," Dick said. "I had an...unpleasant encounter a little bit ago that made them start up again."

"Something you need to make a police report on?"

"No thank you."

"Where did you get that bruise?" the woman asked, gesturing to the large bruise on his arm from a patrol the week before.

Dick flinched as the officer's hand came toward his arm, but he recovered his composure quickly. 

"And why are you flinching?" the man added.

"I'm sorry, I don't like to be touched, and it seemed like you might," Dick explained. "And I grew up as an acrobat, as I'm sure you know —" he didn't kid himself that the cops weren't aware of who he was. They were _Gotham_ cops, after all. "I was practising on the balance beam last week, and took a tumble. It happens."

The cops were silent for a moment, and looked at each other.

"And you're _sure_ you have nothing to report?" the woman asked.

"No, nothing to report," Dick said with finality.

"Alright then, if you're sure… Have a nice day, sir."

Dick nodded and gave a friendly wave, before shutting the door and letting his mask drop.

" _Fuck_ ," he whispered, sinking down with his back against the door and putting his head between his knees.

"You okay, sweet pea? Everything turn out alright?" he heard Jason ask.

"Everything's fine," he mumbled into his knees. "Please just leave me alone."

Jason once again retreated back into the bedroom, and Dick felt more miserable than before. He didn't really mean to do it, but it seemed that no matter what he did, he was always being an asshole and pushing Jason away.

◇◇◇

The first time it happened, it caught Dick horribly off guard.

"Hey man. I saw the video, sorry about—" the man had started as Dick was zip-tying his hands, voice thick with pity.

"What?" Dick cut him off. Then his brain caught up with what the man was referencing. "Th— that's absolutely none of your business," he said, dropping the man's wrists as if burned and stumbling to his feet.

He'd practically fled the scene.

Unfortunately, it was not the last time, and Dick found himself at a loss for what to say when criminal after low-grade criminal expressed their sympathies to him. It felt deeply violating that something so personal was apparently known by everyone in the goddamn city, and, more than that, it felt cruel that his escape from the thoughts and memories of That Night was now marred by reminders of it. Reminders not only of the occurrence, but that everybody knew his shame.

He thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should be angry about it all. Or that maybe he _would_ be, in other circumstances. But as it was, he just felt drained. Horribly, horribly drained and empty.

◇◇◇

"I hope you're prepared for the backlash when Hood finds out that you've dealt with this without him and that it's all connected," Barbara said through the private comm link as Bruce headed toward Gotham General Hospital.

"Hood doesn't know? He knows Davies' identity, are you sure he hasn't made the connection?" Bruce asked.

"Would they both be sitting there, unshot if he had? Yes, he knows who Davies is, but apparently he didn't go looking into his background and Nightwing didn't share his research on O'Leary."

"Hm. Well let's plan to keep it that way as long as possible; we can't be handling Hood taking matters into his own hands right now. This is about information-gathering so we can bring them to justice, not revenge." 

"He's bound to find out Davies is awake by tomorrow."

"And that's why I'm already making arrangements for him to be transferred, and you're going to cover our tracks so Hood can't find out where."

Barbara sighed. "I know. But he's going to know it was us, and he's going to be pissed."

"I can live with that. I've handled Hood being angry with me before and I'll surely handle it again."

Bruce got out of the Batmobile and grappled up the side of the building to the top floor.

"Room 1607, correct?" he checked with Barbara.

"Yes."

He worked the window open, and slid inside.

The sleeping man startled awake as a warm breeze came in through the open window, and he gave a small noise of alarm when he saw the large, shadowed figure beside his bed.

"Good evening, Mr. Davies. I believe we need to have a chat," he growled.

The man fumbled for the call button on the little fob beside his bed, but with the plaster mitts surrounding his destroyed hands, he couldn't get a grip. Bruce stepped forward and plucked the fob from his tentative grasp.

"You won't be needing that. You won't be screaming either," Bruce added, when the man took a breath. "Not if you don't want me to pay a visit to your daughter."

The man shut his mouth. "God help me," he eventually whimpered out.

"God's not up here. Only Batman."

Bruce heard Barbara snort in his ear, and he knew a recording of that would be finding its way to Tim, who would tease him mercilessly about stealing a line from a parody musical about himself, but it was worth it for the way the man quaked in fear, looking like he might actually piss himself.

"I— I was only trying to protect my daughter," the man stuttered out.

Bruce stepped forward menacingly. "And committing unspeakable acts against _my son_ did that how? Do you think that's going to hold up in court for what you did? Do you think anybody is going to buy that any of that was somehow _defense?_ " He shoved his index finger against the man's chest, jarring his broken clavicle, which made him open his mouth in a silent scream. "You, Ephram Davies, are going to tell me _exactly_ what your plans were and _why_ , and you're going to tell me _now_."

"I— I have a broken jaw, talking is bad for it, it hurts if I talk too much."

"Well too bad," Bruce said. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you put your filthy hands where they didn't belong." He pressed his finger harder against the man's chest, before pulling back. "Talk."

The man gasped, trying to get a handle on his pain. "Alright, I will, I _will_." He paused, and swallowed hard. "It started with my daughter—"

"Irene O'Leary," Bruce supplied.

The man closed his eyes. "Yes. She had been dating a man for quite some time, and then out of nowhere he dumped her and then showed up with someone _new_ just a few days later. Clearly he had been two-timing her, and my little girl doesn't stand for none of that. So she went after him.

"Your little birdie tried to stop her, but I taught my girl how to fight, and she doesn't go down easy. So she got the better of him and then the _Red Hood_ ," he spat the name, glaring, "decided to come stick a gun in her face and _threaten her life_ just for winning the damn fight."

"You are wildly misinformed, but go on."

The man directed his glare up at Bruce, his hate clearly winning out over fear, giving him bravery he didn't possess just moments before. "Well then correct me, what am I so wrong about?"

"No." Bruce said. " _You're_ doing the talking. _Go on_."

The man's glare didn't subside in the slightest, but he continued. "Well I don't take very kindly to my only daughter being threatened, so I developed a plan to get back at your _Jay_."

Bruce internally flinched at the use of Jason's real name, but outwardly he stood stonily silent and unmoving, waiting for the man to continue.

"It was easier than I thought, once I found out Nightwing had lost his comm and I found both it _and_ a smashed one on the rooftop.

"I've dabbled in electronics for years, and once I got my hands on them, it didn't take long to figure out how they worked. At first I just listened in, but your Oracle caught onto that quickly and I had to turn it off. But it gave me an idea. Hood was so extra protective of Nightwing, so if I wanted to hurt him, going after 'Wing seemed like the obvious thing to do. As a first step at least. 

"What I really wanted was to find out Hood's identity and blackmail him with it, and it seemed like I might be able to kill two birds with one stone. Buying small spells is easy enough if you know where to go, and if I could just impersonate Hood, then I could surely manipulate Nightwing into telling me a name at the very least. And then I could give Hood a front row seat to his little boy toy betraying him while he couldn't do a thing about it. It was perfect."

The man stopped, and Bruce pressed his lips together impatiently.

"Continue."

"My jaw really h—"

" _Continue_." Bruce interrupted him.

The man sighed. "Well from there it took me a week or so to build a device to control a comm unit remotely. Once I got that done, all I had to do was wait for Nightwing to go back to Blüdhaven on his own." He paused. "By the way, did you know your boy went to _The Dragon's Lair?_ You know what that club is for, right?"

Bruce gritted his teeth. He _did_ unfortunately know the club's reputation, but he also knew that Dick had been there for a case. He had been doubly displeased to find out that it was that _particular_ club that Dick had been going undercover in, but by the time he'd found that out, it had been much too late to stop him. Not that Dick had been receptive to his earlier attempts to get him to drop the case.

"I'm just saying," the man said, to Bruce's stony silence. "If you're going all protective parent, I'm definitely not the only one who's had his hands all over him."

A muscle in Bruce's jaw ticked. What a disgusting attempt at an excuse.

" ** _Continue_** ," he ground out.

The man rolled his eyes. "Well once Nightwing finally went to Blüdhaven on his own and not in the middle of a crowd in a sex club, it was pretty easy. Seemed like the easiest way to set him at ease and disconnect him from the comms input was to come onto him, and it's not like it was exactly a _chore_ , he's pretty easy on the eyes. And from there I got a little carried away, but who can blame me?"

Bruce felt his face curl in disgust. _Bruce_ could blame him. Anyone with a lick of common sense would fucking blame him.

"Don't act disgusted like you haven't thought about it too. Probably _done_ it."

Bruce's jaw creaked alarmingly, and he started to seriously be concerned he might crack a tooth with how hard he was clenching it. 

It was nothing Bruce hadn't heard before — especially back when Dick had first started as Robin — and he knew that the man was likely saying it to get a rise out of him, but he felt his blood boil nonetheless. It was all just so heinously repulsive; of course there was a resurgence of those sorts of vile rumors every time there was a new child joining the ranks of the bats, but Dick in particular never got a single break in or out of costume.

As Bruce Wayne's ward and as Robin, he'd had to listen to speculation that his adoptive father was a pedophile only looking to bed him. As Robin, he'd had his costume, which had been based off of his costume from Haly's circus, mocked as pedophile bait, as if he — a _child_ — was the one responsible for how adults looked at him. In his public persona as Richie Grayson, he was constantly objectified, and his body was subject to all sorts of scrutiny for trashy tabloid articles. _Nightwing's_ body was also talked about and thirsted over all over the goddamned internet. In both his vigilante and personal lives, he'd been unwillingly kissed, groped, and leered at more times than Bruce could possibly count, and he didn't kid himself that he had even witnessed half of them. Even his _name_ in his personal life was subject to constant sexualization and derision. 

Why, _why_ could his eldest child never seem to be allowed any escape? Why was it that at _every single turn_ there was always another person, another rumor, another _implication?_ Why could everyone not just leave him alone for once? Let him _exist_ without existing _for_ their consumption?

"'S that why you and the Red Hood don't get along so well? Pretty little Robin was _yours_ first?"

Bruce fought to maintain his composure. He'd liked it better when the man had been scared out of his mind.

"Oh damn, I'm right aren't I?" the man said, with a surprised laugh. "Wasn't actually expecting that."

Bruce grabbed his face by the chin in one gloved hand, pressing his thumb hard against the fractured spot and forcing his face up to make eye contact. Pained tears streamed out of the man's eyes and he made a strangled sound, but Bruce couldn't bring himself to feel any remorse.

"There aren't words for how wrong and how utterly repulsive you are." Bruce let the man go, and he slumped back against his pillow. "I think we're done here. Stay away from my children."

He turned with a whirl of his cape, and slipped back out of the window. 

He shot his grappling gun up, and then paused before he could head back down to the street.

"Red Robin. I know you're up there. What are you doing here?"

Tim peeked over the edge of the roof, frowning.

"How did you know?"

"Not the question. I've already talked to Davies, and made arrangements for his transfer so Hood can't find him. There's no other reason for you to be here."

"What if _I_ wanted to talk to him."

Bruce frowned. "No."

"That's not very cash money of you," Tim mumbled.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "English, Red."

Tim just huffed and crossed his arms.

"Please return to your regular patrol."

Bruce started to grapple down, and then had to stop again. Oh for fuck's sake.

"Robin." he said through the window. "No."

Damian had his katana pointed at the man, who had his plaster mitts raised in surrender. Damian frowned at Bruce.

" _No_ ," Bruce repeated. "I've already dealt with him. Go back to your regular patrol."

Damian looked incredibly displeased, but he sheathed the katana. "Tt whatever," he finally said. And then, to the man, "This is not the end of this. Watch your back."

He turned on his heel and strode back out into the corridor.

Bruce really hoped his child wasn't being as reckless as he thought he was just _walking through the hospital_ in costume.

◇◇◇

It hadn't taken much for the rest of the bats to piece together most of the story, even without Tim hacking into Bruce's private records to read exactly what The Man had said when Bruce had questioned him. He'd definitely done that, though. And shared it with all the others.

It was also possible that all of them had tagged his car and entire house, but nobody would ever be able to prove it. 

In totally unrelated news, the front of The Man's house now read 'RAPIST' in dripping Nightwing-blue spray paint, amidst other various unsavory epithets.

More importantly, both The Woman and The Man were now in police custody.

The Woman had attempted to end her ex-boyfriend's life again, apparently complacent that the bats had their attention elsewhere. She could not have been more wrong, and they had stopped her and sent a copy of the CCTV footage to the police.

As for The Man, Barbara had created a copy of the comms recording from That Night, editing out Jason's name and ending it just before Dick started beating The Man, and that too had been sent to the police.

All in all, it wasn't as satisfying as they had hoped, but it was comforting to know that both of them would face consequences for their actions.

◇◇◇

Jason was _livid_ when he found out. He had been pissed off enough that Bruce and Barbara had had The Man transferred and had wiped the records (meaning that Jason had had to go hospital by hospital checking for any sign of a man matching his description), but now the rest of the bats had gone and gotten the two creeps taken into police custody. And they'd all gotten their little petty revenge without him, and hadn't bothered to even fucking _tell_ him that it had all been connected. He'd had to find that out by hacking into Bruce's files trying to get the full story on The Man.

He got the full story alright, but it was too late to fucking do anything. At least The Man would rot in prison for what he'd done, and his creep daughter would too for her attempted murder — Bruce would definitely see to it that they got convicted. 

Jason still wanted to shoot them.

And the part that got to him the most was that when he'd told Dick about it all, he'd barely reacted. He just didn't seem to give a shit, and that made Jason feel like he had to be angry enough for _both_ of them. Just because Dick was too numb right now to feel it didn't mean that the rest of the bats going behind both of their backs was okay.

Right now, he was wandering around Crime Alley spoiling for a fight to blow off some steam. It was just so _unfair_. He _deserved_ a fucking chance to make them pay, he deserved a chance to strike fear into that scum's eyes— 

A light in his helmet blinked on. Shit, one of the working girls was sending out a panic signal. Guess he got his wish for a fight.

He ran flat out — the signal wasn't coming from very far, and it would probably end up taking more time to go get his motorcycle.

The signal led him to Phoenix, who was pacing nervously, and Bubbles, who was leant back against the brick storefront anxiously chewing her thumbnail.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you guys okay?"

"It's Tootsie," Phoenix said, pointing to the alleyway a little ways down the street.

"Thanks," he said, quickly taking off again.

He screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley, where a man was holding Tootsie against the brick wall by the throat.

"Do you think this is a game?" he was spitting. "You don't get to tell me no." The skin around his eyes was red and inflamed, and his eyes and nose were streaming — clearly he had been pepper sprayed.

Before the man had even realized he had company, Jason punched him hard in the teeth. The man went down, his hand releasing Tootsie and letting her slide down the wall to the ground.

Before the man could hit the ground, Jason grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him up against the opposite wall. "Yeah, not so fun now that it's you, is it?" Jason said.

The man spluttered and gasped for air, and Jason leaned closer.

"You listen up, and you listen _well_ ," he snarled. "Tootsie here, and _all_ of the ladies around here, are graciously offering a service for you to buy. And just like anybody else selling a service, they have the right to refuse customers for _any reason_. 

"The way this works is you come around here asking for a service, and they say _yes_ , or they say _no_. If they say yes, you pay them, you get what you came for. You don't hit, bite, scratch them, pull their hair, or _anything_ like that before, during, or after, unless you specifically asked and they said _yes_. And when you're done, you _thank them_ , and you _go on your merry fucking way_. 

"If they say no, you skip right to the last step and you fucking _leave_. You don't argue, you don't hurt them, and you _don't_ try to take what you came for by force. Because if you do, you know what that makes you? It makes you a rapist, just like any other. It doesn't matter that they're selling sex, they _get_ to say no, just like _any other human being_. If you don't listen to them, you are a _rapist_. And do you know what the Red Hood does to rapists?"

The man was still struggling for breath, but he shook his head, fear in his eyes.

"Are you sure you wanna find out?"

The man shook his head more frantically.

"Right answer." Jason slipped the man's wallet out of his pocket with his free hand and flipped it open, looking at his ID.

"Robert Decatur. At 14 East 5th Street, apartment number 6D. I'll be remembering that."

He flipped the wallet shut again and shoved it back into the man's pocket.

"You and any buddies of yours better not show your fucking face in this part of town again. And you keep in mind that the Red Hood's got his eyes on you now — _wherever_ you are — so you better keep your ass in line if you don't wanna learn what it means to cross me. Now get out of my sight." He released the man's throat, and he sagged against the wall, gasping in air. 

" _Get. Out. Of my sight_ ," Jason repeated dangerously low, and shoved his shoulder harshly, turning his body toward the street.

"Y-yes sir," the man stuttered out, scampering away with a last fearful glance back.

Jason stepped out of the alley and watched until he disappeared completely down the street, before turning back to Tootsie and holding a hand out to help pull her up.

"Hey Tootsie. Sorry you had to deal with that — good on you for pepper spraying his ass. He and any of his friends aren't gonna be bothering you anymore, I'll make sure of that."

She grabbed the proffered hand and slowly got to her feet. "Thanks, Hood," she whispered.

"Just doing my job. How you feeling?"

She shrugged. "I'm fine." 

She didn't look fine at all, and she was still squeezing his hand in a death grip.

Jason brought up his other hand partway, and then paused. "Can I touch your back?"

She nodded, and he rubbed a soothing hand between her shoulder blades. "I think you should go home for the night, okay? You want me to walk with you?"

"I can't— I—" she burst into tears. "I can't go home," she sobbed out. "I'm already behind on rent, I need the money, I can't just skip out early. My landlord is gonna kick me out if I don't make this month's, and I'm still a couple hundred short and I've only got 'til tomorrow—"

Jason continued rubbing her back and squeezing her hand. "Hey, hey, it's okay."

"It's not!" she cried.

"Aw, Tootsie, come on — _I'm_ supposed to be the dramatic one here." She gave a small, watery laugh, and his voice softened. "Why didn't you tell me before? All you gotta do is say if something like that comes up and you know I'll take care of you. I'll get everything squared away with your landlord by tomorrow, okay? I promise. It's gonna be okay, I've got you."

"I don't— I should be able to do this by myself, I shouldn't have to rely on someone else to come swooping in just to make ends meet; I'm supposed to be an _adult_."

"We all need to lean on friends sometimes, there's nothing wrong with that," he said firmly. "Come on, let's get you home."

"O-okay." She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay. Thank you." 

They made it out of the alleyway, and Jason waved at Bubbles and Phoenix, who were still waiting a little ways down the street, sharing a cigarette. 

"Thanks again, ladies. I'm taking Toots home."

They waved back, and Jason and Tootsie turned away down the street.

They made their way to her apartment in amicable silence.

"Whatever money you've got for this month's rent, you keep that, okay? Use it for groceries, we can't have you starving now," Jason said, dropping the hand from her back, once they got to her door and she finally let go of his hand to fish out her keys.

"Thank you, Hood. You're a really good guy. I'd invite you over to dinner sometime as thanks, but you can't really eat with the helmet on."

Jason laughed. "Oh I've got a domino on under here too if I gotta take it off, but don't you worry about that, you don't owe me anything."

"Still, I want to do something. What's your favorite type of cookie?"

"If you _must_...snickerdoodles."

Tootsie smiled. "Expect a batch of those sometime this week."

"Lookin' forward to it. 'Night, Tootsie." He waved and turned away.

"'Night. Oh, and Hood?" she called, when he was halfway down the hall. He turned back. "Half of them are for Nightwing, so don't eat them all yourself."

Jason laughed again. "I'll be sure to tell him; I'm sure he'll be looking forward to it too."

She bit her lip. "And tell him— tell him he's not alone. I'm sure any of us would be willing to talk with him if he needed."

Jason's smile turned sad. "Thanks, Tootsie," he said softly.

◇◇◇

Bruce was off-planet with half the Justice League when Barbara finally got intel on an auction held by the human trafficking ring Jason and Tim had both independently been trying to take down for quite some time.

It was going to be a big bust, and Barbara had called in all the bats to help with it.

Jason, Dick, Tim, and Stephanie were currently on the roof of the warehouse where the auction was set to have started just a few minutes before, and the others were already on the ground below.

Jason felt keyed up and full of adrenalin like he usually did before a big bust. He looked over to Dick, who just looked strained as he attempted to imitate excitement.

Dick just seemed so...empty every time Jason looked at him recently. Sometimes, for a few minutes, or even a day, he could keep up the mask and pretend to be alive inside. But Jason saw it slip, sometimes in little ways, just a flash of a microexpression, and sometimes it fell away completely as soon as he went out on patrol. 

He seemed to be trying to fake it for Jason's sake, to give him a smile or an 'I love you' sometimes, and Jason appreciated it, but it was so obvious his heart wasn't in it. Dick seemed more and more like an empty shell of himself as the days went on.

"See you on the other side," Jason said, holding out two fingers for a Vulcan kiss. Dick tapped his fingers against Jason's and grinned. It was obvious it didn't reach his eyes, even with the mask in place. 

"See ya." A bare echo of his old tone. He grappled down off of the roof.

"Was that…?" Tim paused. "Oh you are _such_ a fucking nerd."

"Can it, birdbrain," Jason snapped, not looking back at him. 

Tim just snorted.

"What am I missing?" Stephanie asked.

"Nothing. None of your business," Jason replied, at the same time Tim said, "Hood's embarrassing love affair with Star Trek."

This time Jason _did_ turn to glare at him. Not that Tim could see it through his helmet.

He really didn't need his little replacement picking at the one thing that Jason had found to bring them closer together as Dick continued to grow more and more distant.

Plus, he was still angry at the kid — and all the others — for that stunt they'd pulled last week going behind his back, so Tim really wasn't doing himself any favors getting himself _more_ on his bad side.

"Well _you_ recognized it, so apparently I'm not alone," he shot back.

Tim checked his watch. "Would you look at that — it's showtime," he said, grappling down from the roof.

"I'm still lost and you're explaining to me later!" Stephanie called after him, before kicking out the skylight and grappling down into the building.

Jason scowled and headed down after her. Maybe punching some dickbags would burn off some of his frustration — if he was lucky, he might even get to shoot some of them.

He was, in fact, lucky, and he took great satisfaction in taking out the knees of several creeps.

Tim came up to high-five him after all was said and done, and Jason purposely left him hanging.

"Just because Nightwing doesn't care doesn't mean _I'm_ not still pissed with you all for leaving me out of the loop and robbing me of my well-deserved chance to make _him_ and his little creep daughter suffer. You're lucky I even agreed to a team up today."

Tim's grin dimmed slightly. "So...no high-five?" he asked.

Jason took off his helmet just so Tim could _see_ his scowl.


	13. Eleven

Jason threw his arm over his eyes, chest heaving as he caught his breath. He was sprawled bonelessly across the bed, and he thought he might never be able to move again — in the very best way, of course.

"Hhhnfk" he mumbled, and then groaned as Dick eased the toy out of him.

Dick snorted. "Was that actually supposed to be words, or are you just making noises now?"

Jason gave another small wordless groan, and managed to fling his arm back off of his face. 

He looked over at Dick, eyes still half-lidded. "Don't bully me. That was…really good. Super mega good." He managed to form his hand into a lazy thumbs up and then dropped it, and Dick snorted again.

"'Really super mega good', huh?"

"Mmn stop being mean. You okay?" Jason checked as he rolled himself up onto his side, feeling some of the post-orgasm brain fog start to disperse. Dick nodded, and Jason held out his hand to him, two fingers outstretched for a 'kiss'.

Dick started to comply, bringing their fingers together, but Jason jerked his hand back at the last second.

"Bastard, you used that hand on purpose! Give me that."

He grabbed Dick's wrist and held up the offending hand still covered in Jason's come between them. “You’re not cute.”

“That’s a bold lie — I’m _adorable_.”

Jason pressed a kiss to his wrist. “Fine. You are cute, but you’re still a bastard,” he muttered into the skin, and nipped lightly at the heel of Dick’s hand. “Wouldn't want to stain the sheets though," he teased. "This alright?”

Dick nodded, and watched as Jason slowly traced his tongue up the side of his hand and over his pinky finger.

"Still good?" he asked again, and Dick nodded impatiently, flexing his fingers back.

Jason took the hint, and dragged his tongue over Dick's palm, cleaning it off thoroughly and carefully, before moving up the side of his pointer finger. He swirled his tongue over the tip of the finger, and then dipped down between it and the middle finger, working in long slow strokes of his tongue and watching Dick's eyes begin to darken.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"

Dick flicked his eyes away from where he'd been staring, transfixed by Jason's tongue working on his fingers. He caught Jason's own earnest eyes just for a split second before returning his attention to his mouth.

"Don't stop," he said softly, pushing the two fingers fully into Jason's mouth. 

He felt himself start to get hard as Jason sucked on his fingers, playing with them with his tongue and occasionally bobbing his head. Dick found himself leaning over him, pushing him back against the pillows.

"You look so good like this, Little Wing," he murmured, sliding in his ring finger alongside the other two. "It's been a while, huh?"

Jason hummed in agreement around his fingers, and Dick found himself pushing them deeper, making Jason swallow reflexively, which made his tongue undulate against Dick's fingers. He started to palm himself through his pants unconsciously with his other hand.

"You wanna suck my cock, Jaybird? Want something proper to use that tongue on?" he asked.

Jason's eyes widened, and he pushed Dick's hand back, removing the fingers from his mouth.

"Dick. Are you sure you… Are you _sure?_ "

"Do I look like I'm unsure?"

"...Not exactly," Jason's eyes darted down to where Dick was rubbing his obvious erection. "I just...are you really sure? This seems so soon, and you're still not comfortable with so much. I just don't want you to do this right now and then regret it later."

Yes, Dick _was_ still rather uncomfortable with a lot of things, and had been doing his level best to try to distract Jason from the fact that he still didn't want to be kissed. Of course, he should've known Jason wouldn't let anything slip by unquestioned.

It was just...yeah this _was_ probably a bad idea, and Dick knew it, but that didn't mean he hadn't sought it out. And that definitely didn't mean he was going to stop now.

Jason was probably right — it was pretty damn likely that he'd regret this as soon as it happened, but that was _his_ business. It wasn't like he was gonna _tell_ Jason or anything; it was his own problem to deal with. Because he _had_ to try, he just had to.

Dick was just so fucking _tired_ of being uncomfortable and scared and having this massive fucking roadblock in the way whenever he wanted to do _anything_ , and he was going to get past this. He'd let it go on too long as it was.

They'd started fucking again after The Woman On The Roof, and that meant they could start fucking again after this. Dick just had to get over himself and _try_.

He undid the drawstring on his pajamas. "I'm sure, Jay. I know what I want, and what I _want_ is a blowjob from my boyfriend with the absolutely wicked tongue."

Jason smirked, but he still looked slightly concerned, even as he joked, "As opposed to your other boyfriend?"

"Yeah, you might know him? Shiny red helmet, overly fond of guns, does crimes — oh, I'm sorry — _'fights crime'_ with a small team of my exes?"

Jason laughed. "Yeah, that guy; I dunno, I heard he's kind of an asshole."

"Well, sometimes I'm in the mood to top, so it works out alright."

"Come here," Jason laughed again. "You and your fucking puns. How do you want to do this?"

He carelessly swiped the toys Dick had used on him earlier off of the bed to deal with later, and Dick settled himself sitting up against the headboard.

"This should be fine." He started to wriggle out of his pajama pants, even as he felt a small flame of panic flicker up his throat.

He felt so vulnerable, so exposed, and he wasn't even undressed yet. Dick clenched his jaw and ignored the feeling, even as his stomach started to flip. He was _going_ to do this, and he was _going_ to get past all of this shit, and it was going to be _fine_.

He pushed the bottoms and boxers off the rest of the way, and stripped his t-shirt off too, and then Jason was lying between his legs, running reverent hands up his thighs.

Pretty much from that first touch, Dick started to feel distant, almost like he was spectating as a third party, but he fought to answer Jason's questions normally and correctly without letting on, even though sound was becoming more and more distant as well.

And then finally, _finally_ Jason's mouth was on his cock so he couldn't ask any more questions that Dick would have to figure out the right answers to, and Dick had no idea what his body was doing, but he hoped it'd throw him a bone (so to speak) and stay hard, because if he didn't then that would just cause more questions. And, and…Dick was just going to float here and continue focusing on the slightly uneven paint on the right corner of the windowsill because that seemed like something he could do…

Jason realized Dick had gone unnervingly still — had done it gradually, so it had taken Jason a minute to notice, but now that he had, it was impossible to ignore. He looked up to Dick's face, and immediately pulled off when he saw him staring vacantly at a fixed point.

"Dick? Dick!"

Dick blinked. "What— Oh, why'd you stop?" He attempted a smile, but he still looked far away and unfocused.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. It's good."

Jason just stared at him. He...how was he even supposed to respond? This— from his responses, it sounded an awful lot like Dick had done this on _purpose_ — was still trying to get him to _continue_. It would be different if he had thought he was ready, and things went wrong, but Dick was pretending it was _fine_.

"Are you sure you're okay? What's wrong? You're—"

"I'm _fine_ , okay? We're good, I'm good, you feel amazing."

So. He really _had_ apparently intended for this.

Jason got up and left the room.

He didn't know what to think, what he was _supposed_ to think. He was angry. Angry that Dick was lying and hurting himself in the process, and hurting Jason by setting him up to be the one to _do_ the actual hurting. And then he was angry at himself for not noticing what was happening, and for immediately thinking that he shouldn't trust Dick's answers about himself. But then he was angry again that Dick would lie in the first place and put him in this position.

Anger was the easiest to deal with, and the brightest, easiest to see emotion, but he wasn't just angry. He wasn't even _mostly_ angry.

He was sad and afraid and guilty, and a million other things. He was devastated that he'd just probably made things way worse for Dick, and he was scared because he didn't know if Dick was ever going to recover from this or if he could even trust anything Dick said about himself and his own mental state. And he was guilty for leaving Dick alone right now to deal, when Jason knew he wasn't fine, no matter what he said. And above all else he was bitter.

Not even the sharp kind of bitter he used to be — no, this was a defeated kind of bitter, where he hated that life had to be this way, had to keep throwing harder and harder punches at them both, but where he also understood and was utterly resigned to the fact that there was absolutely nothing at all he could do to stop it.

It wasn't often that this happened, usually his anger burned so bright it completely overshadowed everything else, but right now Jason just felt like weeping.

◇◇◇

Dick was exactly where he had left him when Jason finally went back into the room. His immediate instinct was to ask again if he was alright, but Jason just couldn't handle Dick pretending things were fine right now. He was going to at least get dressed before he decided whether to ask.

"Dick...sweetheart…" He sighed. He couldn't ask, he _couldn't_.

He took another deep breath, and started again. Options, there were always other options. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to be alone right now."

"Why not?" Dick still looked detached, and it was incredibly unnerving, so Jason turned back to the bureau to find some clothes for Dick.

"Because." He bit his lip briefly, unsure how to explain without Dick arguing with him. No, fuck that, he'd tell it like it was. At least _someone_ in the room could be straightforward right now.

"Because you're clearly not okay and you're lying and I don't know how to deal with it right now. Maybe I'm not the person to help you, I don't know, all I know is that I don't know what to do."

"Fine, go find someone to sort things out with if you want. I'm staying here."

 _Fuck_ Jason wanted to snap so badly, but that wasn't useful. It would just make things much worse for both of them, he knew that. But it was still so, so tempting.

"I don't know if you're not listening or you don't care, but I'm not leaving you alone right now. If you don't want to leave the apartment, fine, let's call someone. But I'm _not_ leaving you by yourself right now," he responded levelly.

"I can take care of myself. I'm older than you, I'm clearly capable of not having a nanny."

"It's not about that and you know it. Get dressed. Please." Jason tossed the clothes he'd selected at him. Dick looked somewhat surprised to remember that he wasn't currently wearing anything. Great, that was just a fantastic sign.

Jason started pulling his own clothes on.

"Where are we meant to be going then?" Dick finally asked, once he'd gotten most of the clothes on.

"Alfred." Jason responded simply.

◇◇◇

Jason’s hands clutched his mug of tea on the table with a death grip as he heard Alfred finally sit down across from him with his own mug of tea. He didn’t look up, continuing to keep his eyes trained on the steam rising from his mug, and Alfred patiently waited for him to talk.

At least Dick was settled in one of the sitting rooms with Damian, who would keep an eye on him even if he pretended he was too busy drawing to pay attention. 

That didn’t make any of what had happened better, though, and it wasn’t going to reverse Dick being retraumatised or whatever the fuck what had happened was supposed to be called.

“Were you planning on ever explaining this sudden visit, Master Jason?” Alfred asked, the stiffness of the words undercut by his gentle, caring tone. 

Jason felt his eyes start to fill. Damn, Alfred was always there for him, and always so _nice_ and _understanding_ about it. That almost made things hurt worse. Jason knew it was probably some result of him being fucked up blah blah blah, just like everything else was, but he couldn’t control that kindness when he felt like shit _hurt_.

He appreciated it, but it still made things feel worse.

“I…” he croaked, near-soundlessly, and forcibly swallowed to whet his throat. “Dick lied to me, and I hurt him, and now I don’t know what to do, Alfie. I—” His voice broke and he tried to swallow again.

“Did you really?” Alfred questioned calmly, not sounding like he believed Jason had actually done anything intentionally harmful at all.

“Not on _purpose_. But I should’ve _known_ , and I— I don’t know how to trust him anymore. I don’t wanna doubt him, but I can’t— I _can’t_ do this again.” His eyes reached capacity, and finally started to overflow, and his breath hiccuped. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what to _do_ —” he broke off, finally succumbing to silent crying into his hands.

He felt Alfred reach over the table and lay a hand on his shoulder, and it was several long minutes before his tears slowed.

“Why don’t you explain to me what happened so I can understand?” Alfred asked, once he had calmed a bit.

"We were...we were in the bedroom," he finally said. "And one thing led to another, and he _said_ he was ready — I had to've asked half a dozen times, and he kept insisting he wanted to. But then he, like, immediately started dissociating; so I obviously stopped and asked if he was okay and then," he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "And then he just kept trying to pretend he _wasn't_ completely out of it, and kept saying everything was fine and trying to get me to _continue_ , and then I just had to leave the room because I couldn't handle it."

He sighed.

"But then I felt guilty for leaving him to deal on his own because I _know_ he wasn't okay, no matter what he kept saying, I know he wasn't. I still didn't know how to handle it though, so I told him I didn't want us to be alone and we needed to go to someone or call someone over if he didn't wanna leave, and that's how we ended up here," he finished, and brought his mug up to take a sip. He froze halfway, though, as a thought occurred to him. "Oh god, I should've noticed. He didn't even check to see if it was me — oh fuck how did I not notice something was wrong?"

Alfred patted his shoulder again. "It isn't your fault you didn't notice. Despite what Master Bruce thinks, it's quite impossible for us humans to pick up on every little detail all the time."

Jason gave him a look. "Don't blow smoke up my ass, Alfie; that's not a little detail, that's a damn big thing. He checks to see whether I'm really me all the time. For things _much_ smaller than this. 

"He won't even kiss me still — and that's _fine_ , but I don't know why I let him convince me he was ready for this when he's not even ready for _that_."

"I'm quite sure I do no such thing. You aren't to blame for this; Master Dick made a choice and it sounds like nothing was going to change his mind. I don't know _why_ he made the decisions he did, but I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Fucking stupid ones," Jason said.

"Language, Master Jason."

"Sorry Alfie."

Alfred gave a small sigh. "Have you considered simply _asking_ him to explain?"

Jason laughed, but it was an ugly, bitter thing. "He's barely told me a goddamn thing of any sort of substance since That Night. We had a talk the night after, but since then he's completely shut me out and he utterly _refuses_ to talk about anything serious. The closest we've gotten was me telling him I'm fine with not kissing and even that he sulked through. Anything even remotely serious and he just up and leaves the damned room.

"And the one time he _has_ told me anything — _tonight_ — he was lying the whole damned time. So I don't know, maybe I don't bother trying for communication anymore when he's making it an impossibility."

"Well all you can do is try. And you _have_ to keep trying, because if you give up on _this_ , that means giving up entirely. Are you ready to do that?"

Jason slumped forward. "No," he said softly. "Of course I'm not giving up."

"Then you must _ask_ , even if you don't think you'll get an honest response, or any response at all. You have to put in your half, and whether or not Master Dick wants to meet you halfway is a decision he will have to make. And if he doesn't, then you will have to _keep_ making the decision. To give up or to try again and give it more time. It certainly isn't an easy thing to do by any means, but I have faith in you."

Jason looked down into his mug of tea. It wasn't a nice answer, or a pretty answer, or an easy one, but that wasn't why he came to Alfred. He came to him for the _truth_ and for clear insight, and that was what he'd gotten. That was what Alfred would always freely give.

"Thank you," he said, and boy did he ever mean it. He'd never be able to thank Alfred enough for being there for him through the years.

"You're very welcome."

Jason looked back up, meeting the butler's kind eyes.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked.

Alfred gave a small smile. "Of course," he said. "And I you, Master Jason. And I you." He stood up and straightened his waistcoat. "Now, drink your tea before it gets cold. I'm going to have a chat with Master Dick."

Jason smiled into his tea as Alfred left the room. It was good to have Alfie always in his corner.

◇◇◇

Jason didn't know what exactly Alfred had said to Dick, but he sulked all the way home the way he always did when he got a good bitching out from Alfred.

Once they got in the door, Dick took his sulking to the couch and laid down dramatically.

"So," Jason said, sitting himself down in the armchair. "Are we going to talk?"

Dick pouted for a little longer, before finally answering. "Fine."

Jason leaned back, kicking his legs out and steepling his fingers in front of him, elbows resting on the armrests. "Then let's start with why. Why would you lie to me — _purposely_ lie to me — about being ready? And then why would you _continue_ to lie, even once you were clearly having a bad reaction?" He kept his voice level, trying his best to keep any accusatory notes out.

Dick stared directly up at the ceiling as he answered in a monotone voice. "I'm sick of being scared, I wanted to get over it."

"And you didn't think to let me in on your little plan? You thought that would even work, that it would do anything other than make you worse, _why?_ "

"Well what else was I supposed to do?"

A part of Dick wanted to snap it, to scream it, to get up in Jason's face and make him _see_ the way Dick did. Jason didn't _understand_ — could never understand — he just didn't get it, and that made a part of Dick _furious_. 

But. But actually being angry, actually _acting_ angry...it just required so _much_ , and Dick didn't have it in him. It wasn't like it mattered anyway. No matter what he said or how he said it, he'd never be able to make Jason _see_. There was no point in trying.

Okay, so that wasn't entirely fair. He knew Jason loved him, loved him enough to try his damndest to understand, but maybe Dick didn't _want_ him too. Maybe it was easier to not even try, because trying and failing would hurt so much more. Knowing that there was no amount of love that could bridge the gap to make Jason feel the way he felt — that would hurt a hell of a lot more than just accepting it as an impossibility and not trying.

He didn't want Jason to try and fail and try harder — because he was _Jason_ , and that's _exactly_ what he'd do. He wouldn't give up trying, he'd try and try and burn himself out trying on an impossibility. And if he _did_ manage to fight his way to the barest inkling of understanding, well Dick didn't want that for him either. He didn't _want_ Jason to understand the pain and fear and _desperation_ , the humiliation and the self-loathing, and the nameless, toxic sludge in his mind that weighed him down, grasping at him, trying to drown him every second of every day that he had to keep existing. 

So no, he didn't want Jason to understand. He didn't want him to _understand_ just as badly as he didn't want him to be _unable_ to understand. There was no winning — through every door was disappointment and more pain.

And so it was better to do nothing. To not try. To go ahead and accept the distance between them and let it _be_.

"Not that, for a start," Jason said. 

Right. He'd asked what else he was supposed to do. Dick hadn't wanted an answer, and he _especially_ didn't want a snappy non-answer like that, but he just couldn't bring himself to actually fucking care.

He said nothing.

"Dick," Jason said tersely. And then, after a moment, softer, "Dick, sweetheart, come on. I'm _trying_ , I'm trying _so damn hard_ , why won't you just talk to me?"

And that was exactly what Dick didn't want. His _trying_.

"What is there to say?" he asked blankly.

"Everything. _Anything_." Jason's voice was still pleading, and it made Dick's lungs ache a little. His chest felt watery and he wasn't sure he knew quite why. He wanted this to be over. He wanted Jason to stop pleading, stop _trying_ , stop hurting.

Well if there was no conversation, at the very least Dick wouldn't have to be witness to any of that.

"I'm going to take a shower."

He felt more than heard Jason frantically grasp at the edge of the conversation as it attempted to fade away, trying to sink his claws in and keep ahold.

"Aren't you going on patrol? You're gonna take a shower before you get all sweaty? Dick, please. _Stay. Talk to me_."

Dick swore he could _see_ Jason inching closer to the precipice. He felt sick. He'd found the line, or something very close to it. It was finally too much, and Jason was going to leave him. He'd pushed him too far.

He paused. "I'm going to take a shower," he repeated blankly, unable to make himself do anything else. He hadn't wanted the necessary distance between them to mean the complete dissolution of their relationship, but what else could he do?

Jason was going to leave him and Dick wasn't ready to let him go, but he had no way to bring him closer. He was still stuck. The course of inaction was inescapable. There was no other choice.

He turned his back and left the room.

◇◇◇

At the end of the week, Jason decided to invite Roy over. What the hell, things certainly couldn't get much worse between the two of them, and maybe adding an extra person to the mix would help. Somehow.

Jason was getting a bit desperate.

"Hey guys!" Roy greeted, when Jason opened the door and waved him in.

"Hi Roy," Dick said, with a weak imitation of a smile.

"How's it been going? How's our little Lian doing?" Jason asked, sitting down on the couch two and a half feet away from where Dick was curled on the other side.

Roy sat down on the cushy chair beside the couch and sighed. "I've been doing fine. Lian's great — thrilled to be having a 'cool aunt' night with Kory."

"Good, good," Jason said.

The three of them talked for a few hours, and Jason noticed that Dick had excused himself at _least_ seven times during that time. Dick was gone once again as the topic turned to Roy's love life — or lack thereof, as the case was.

"It sounds pathetic, but I'm fucking _lonely_. Starting to understand people who get married to a stranger just to have _someone_ around."

Jason frowned. "Oh, _Roy_. Come here."

Roy joined him on the couch without hesitation, and Jason hugged him tightly. "Tell me about it?"

Roy leaned his head on Jason's shoulder, hugging him back just as tightly. "It just feels like I'm never gonna find anybody. I'm such a fucking wreck, and it's been so long since I've even dated, and— just— _everything_. Sex doesn't even help, 'cause I know whoever I'm hooking up with doesn't give a shit about me, just like I don't give a fuck about them." He blew out a breath. "I'm not even into anyone right now — not really — but I'm starting to feel lowkey into _everyone_ 'cause I'm that desperate. I'm _thirty_ now, and I don't have _anyone_. I just wanna feel loved, and to have someone else around for Lian in case something happens to me."

Shit, as much as Jay didn't _want_ Roy to be feeling this way, it was such a _relief_ just to hear someone open up to him. To allow themselves to be vulnerable and _truthful_ , and to _trust him_.

Jason stroked a hand over Roy's hair and kissed the side of his head. _Oh_. He hadn't realized until this moment just how _much_ he'd missed even the most platonic physical affection. God, he needed to hang out with Roy and Kory more. He desperately needed a good cuddle.

"Roy, you are _so_ loved, come on. I love you, Dick loves you, Kory loves you. Lian _adores_ you. Ollie still cares, even if he's an asshole and a bastard, and Dinah cares too. You're gonna find someone, we've just gotta wait until it's someone good enough for you. And you _know_ if anything were to happen, any — or probably _all_ of us — wouldn't hesitate to step in and care for Lian."

"Kory says the same shit, but—"

"Yeah, because it's _true_ , you stupid asshole."

Roy laughed into his shoulder. " _You're_ the stupid asshole; that's not very comforting, you know."

"Yeah, well that's what happens when you're about to talk shit about one of my best friends. I just _know_ you were about to say some shit about how you don't deserve it or whatever, and that's bullshit."

"I'm a fucking loser, though."

"Don't make me throw you out the window."

"You wouldn't. Or at least not without a grappling line or something."

"You're right — it's almost like you're an incredibly loveable person who I care about a lot," Jason said in a mock-surprised voice, briefly squeezing him tighter.

"I hate you."

Jason scoffed, and they stayed there, holding each other in silence for a few moments before he spoke up again. Maybe he could help Roy feel better _and_ get a cuddle. Two birds with one stone.

"Do you wanna stay the night? Might not be what you _meant_ , but you don't have to be alone tonight. You left Lian with Kory, right?"

"Yeah, Kory was gonna spend the night with her anyway. But...I dunno, do you think that's a good idea with Dick? I mean he's still...not dealing great with all the shit that went down, right?"

Jason shrugged. "I'd have to ask him, but I'm guessing he won't mind. Not to be depressing about it, but he kind of already has the worst case scenario every morning. I'm not sure if it _could_ be worse, you know? And maybe if it wasn't just me…I dunno."

Roy nodded and finally released him, leaning back against the couch. "I guess we'll see what he says."

"Speaking of, he's been gone for almost half an hour, I'm gonna go find him." He heaved himself up off of the couch, and started his search in the bedroom.

"Hey sweetheart." He tapped lightly on the open door.

Dick looked up from the book he was reading, curled up on the bed, but didn't reply.

"You feeling okay?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Just...a little overwhelmed."

"Okay." Jason nodded. Fuck he never knew where he stood with Dick these days. He was trying so fucking hard to be loving and supportive, but Dick just continued to give mixed messages. Saying he loved him one day, and being as cold and blank as the night they'd gone to Alfred the next. And always, always holding him at arms length, never letting him in, no matter which side of him was showing.

"We got to talking, and Roy said he's been feeling super lonely lately," Jason spoke up again. "I offered to let him stay over. Obviously if you don't want that, that's fine, and he knows that — he doesn't want to make anything worse for you."

"Stay over...like in the bed?"

"Yeah, just...like with Damian. But it's fine if that's too much."

Dick shrugged. "No that's fine. Just...he knows not to touch me, right?"

"Yeah. I'll sleep in the middle if you want."

Dick nodded. "He's real lonely, huh?" he said quietly. "I guess he hasn't dated in a while."

"Pretty much. He's just feeling...unloved lately."

Dick frowned, and blurted out, "I don't care if you fuck him."

Jason blinked. "What? _Dick_ …"

"I didn't mean that how it sounded. I'm not like bitter, really, I just...I don't know if we're ever gonna have sex again at this point, and I know you still want to, and I...wouldn't mind if you wanted to hook up with him. Or Kory. Or both, I dunno, but I trust them, and it just seems like…"

Jason shut the door, and came over to sit on his desk chair, already shaking his head long before Dick trailed off. Was this just another way for Dick to continue to push him away? A way to pawn off every bit of their relationship piece by piece to different people until nothing was left?

"I'm not...wired like that — I couldn't. If you're not involved I'm just...not interested. And I don't mean that like— I'm not saying like I won't be satisfied unless you have sex with me; I'm fine with it if we never have sex again, if that's what keeps you comfortable. I'm just not the type to...find outlets elsewhere, I guess. We're working this out, right? We can keep going like this. This is perfectly _fine_ with me, okay?"

He knew he sounded a bit desperate by the end. They _weren't_ working things out, not at all, but god he was trying to. He wanted to, and they _could_ — he _had_ to believe they could — if only Dick would meet him halfway.

Dick nodded, but it was hesitant. "If you change your mind, just...I'm not gonna be mad if you decide you want to, okay?"

"I won't. But thank you, I guess. I love you." He held two fingers out, and Dick met them with his own. So it was still friendly Dick today. That made life easier at least. "We should probably all eat some dinner before patrol. I've got some shit in the freezer I can heat up."

Dick stood. "Alright then."

◇◇◇

Dinner was surprisingly comfortable and smooth, and when they got into bed after a fairly short patrol, Dick felt shockingly peaceful.

Jason was, as promised, in between him and Roy (who was apparently an excellent little spoon).

Dick slid his hand over Jason's side to link his fingers with Roy's, and Roy turned his head and smiled, moving their hands up to rest on Jason's hip. "Thanks Dick," he said quietly.

It was the least Dick felt he could do. He didn't know how else to show his support. He was being a shit friend and he knew it, but he just felt so _lost_ these days. Everything was so much all the time, and he didn't know what to do with it all. He was falling apart at the seams over his own shit, so how could he possibly handle somebody else's? He knew he should have at least made an effort to stick around, to lend a listening ear, but he just...couldn't. 

And so he held Roy's hand and tried not to squirm away when he felt the heat of Jason's body radiating into his open palm, and he hoped it was enough.

Morning wasn't altogether different from most mornings, but Dick felt pretty alright leaning on the kitchen door frame, watching Roy and Jason make pancakes after he'd calmed down.

They...they could be alright.


	14. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING Chapter Contains:** Aftermath of a Suicide Attempt

Over the next few weeks, although he was still keeping Jay at arms length and having his morning breakdowns, Jason started to notice that Dick was...more upbeat.

He felt himself start to hope as he noticed Dick's real smile replacing the fake one more and more often these days, and Dick had hardly been cold and blank with him at all. Jason had no idea what was causing it, but every time a sincere smile bloomed across Dick's face, he felt his heart swell a little more. Maybe Dick was finally, _finally_ starting to heal.

◇◇◇

"I love you," Dick murmured, early one morning, just after they'd gotten into bed.

He still wasn't letting Jason in or talking about anything _important_ with him, but he'd become much more liberal with his 'I love you's, and Jason felt that was at least a step.

"Love you too," he said sleepily. "Anythin' on your mind?"

"Hm?" Dick asked. "Oh. Yeah. Gonna get on that drug smuggling case up in Maine — this week, I think."

"Really?" Jason was more awake now. "Maine?"

"Yeah. Have you seen the report on the case?"

"Yeah...it's barely a case. Real small fish to fry, you sure you need to go all the way up there for that?"

Dick sighed. "Yes. A case is a case is a case. And the prospect of a trip out of Gotham for a few days doesn't hurt."

Jason tried not to feel hurt about that.

"Okay, if you're sure."

When Jason awoke the next day, he was almost convinced their conversation had just been a weird dream, but sure enough, Dick started packing up to go on the trip.

Jason didn't really understand _why_ he seemed so insistent on going away on that silly little case, but Dick seemed excited about it, so he didn't want to question it too much. 

Still, he found himself over at Barbara's in the early morning a good many hours after Dick had left (with a rather emphatic, "I love you all to bits and I'm gonna miss your faces, masked or not. But I'll be home soon!" over the comms before he shut his off and headed out of the city).

"I don't know, I'm probably just being overprotective or clingy or something. It's just the whole thing feels weird to me and I don't know why. I mean, I'm glad he seems excited about something, and he's been seeming a lot more upbeat than usual lately — I definitely don't wanna fuck with that — I just...don't get it.

"Because he's happier I guess, but the breakdowns don't seem to have lessened, and he's still not really letting me in at all — it still feels like there's this massive distance between us that I have no idea how to bridge. I don't wanna sound like I'm not happy he's happy, I am, I just don't get _why_."

Barbara shrugged, and let out a yawn. "I don't know, but you're probably right not to question it. He's healing at his own pace, and I think feeling better in general is a good step. Maybe you can try to talk with him again after he comes back, though, if you're really worried."

"Yeah…" Jason said, deflating. "Yeah, I guess. You're right."

But Jason found himself brooding over the issue all that evening. The longer it sat, the worse the weird feeling about the case got.

By ten thirty, instead of heading out on patrol, he found himself heading toward the highway.

He didn't tell anyone — he really didn't want to hear how crazy he was being from someone else — just headed out on his motorcycle. Hopefully, if all went well, Dick wouldn't even have to know he'd come up after him like a fucking helicopter parent.

◇◇◇

Sitting on a motorcycle for nearly eight hours was not a particularly enjoyable experience, as Jason discovered for unfortunately not the first time in his life. He'd made pretty good time, though. The advantages of driving over night, he supposed: the roads were empty, and speeding was pretty much free reign.

It was nearing seven in the morning by the time he rolled into the right town and parked at the only motel. He wasn't feeling great, despite his several stops for food and to stretch his legs, but he plastered a friendly smile onto his face regardless, adjusting his backpack straps and heading into the motel.

"Hello!" he greeted the attendant behind the desk cheerily.

"Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"

"I was hoping to surprise my friend for his birthday, but I don't know which room he's in, and I was hoping you could help me out?"

"Oh. I...suppose," the attendant said, and Jason thanked the universe for small towns and their lack of security. "What was his name?"

Jason gave Dick's favorite alias, and crossed his fingers under the counter as they typed it into the computer, long nails clacking against the keys.

"That's room 110," they said. "Out around the right side of the building."

"Thanks so much!" Jason said, and headed back out.

It should be fairly easy to unobtrusively check in the window and then tail Dick whenever he got going for the day. He could probably find some sort of diner or coffee shop to hang out in for a few hours until Dick woke up.

He yawned. Or maybe he could get a room here too, and catch a few hours of sleep.

He headed up the outside stairs to the second level and double-checked the number on the door before peering through the crack where the curtains didn't quite meet. His heart dropped, and he was swinging his backpack off before he'd even processed what he was seeing.

Dick was sprawled face-down on the floor in a pool of blood and vomit, and Jason's hands were shaking as he pulled his lockpicks out of his bag and made quick work of the lock. He thanked the universe once again for small towns using actual locks with keys rather than keycards on the doors.

"Jesus. Jesus christ, oh my god," he distantly heard himself saying as he burst into the room, immediately checking for a pulse. It was weak, but there, and Jason was already dialing 911 on his cellphone. 

He kept his hand on Dick's cold, limp, sluggishly bleeding wrist, feeling his pulse until the ambulance arrived. 

He wasn't allowed in, and he sat there on his bike, staring after the ambulance. Everything felt distant and unreal — had felt that way since he'd seen Dick through the window.

Jason could feel himself wheezing as he numbly kick-started his bike and headed out onto the road. Could feel his throat closing up, making odd, painful noises as he tried to breathe, but he couldn't control it. He couldn't control _anything_ — he couldn't _do_ anything.

Everything was wrong, and Jason's mind had started to go on lockdown now that he was out of the emergency action phase. There was really only one thought running through his head right now, repeating itself at high speed. 

I just want my dad. _I want my dad_ , **_I want my dad_**.

◇◇◇

Bruce eyed the unknown number being rerouted through the Batcomputer. Possibly a burner phone that Dick had gotten on his most recent mission, or perhaps Tim.

It was lucky he was even down here — he had gotten ready to go into work early for an international meeting, and had decided to come down to the Cave briefly to check a few things over first.

He picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Dad?” A shaky voice choked out.

The world stood still for a moment. It couldn’t possibly be— but who else?

“Jason?”

“Dad, I’m—” His voice hitched. “I’m—” His voice broke off again.

“Jay? Are you okay? Where are you?” He hastily typed an urgent message to Barbara requesting Jason’s location as he spoke.

“Dickie— he— I’m in Maine. Can you come get me? Please, it’s Dick,” he managed to get out, albeit a bit strangled.

“I’m on my way. What happened? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry, I'm so sorry, I don’t know.” A few sobs slipped out, and it took a few moments before he regained himself enough to explain further. “I knew there was something weird about this mission,” he continued, as Bruce grabbed his keys and ran to the elevator. The Batplane would be faster, but he couldn't take it up and land it somewhere in Maine in broad daylight, so he'd have to go to Wayne Enterprises and take the company jet.

“He's been acting funny lately, but it was good, he seemed happier. I figured I shouldn’t jinx it or whatever, since he’s been struggling so much since...all that shit, you know.”

Bruce didn’t like where this was headed at all. “Where is he?”

“Blue Hill Memorial Hospital." Bruce immediately messaged Barbara for the location. "I’m outside.” His voice hitched again, and when he spoke up next he sounded so small. “Dad, I don’t know if he’s gonna wake up. I don’t know, I’m so scared. There was— it looked like he had tried— tried to k-kill himself last night too. There was—” he cut off, breathing heavily, trying to collect himself.

“Jay, champ, breathe. It’s okay, I’m on my way. It’s gonna be alright," Bruce tried, but Jason couldn't seem to stop his hysterical rambling.

“It’s not, though! It’s not okay! Nothing's okay! It— He was— It was really fucked up. When I got there he was completely passed out, unresponsive, covered in blood and vomit; I thought— I thought he was already dead. And then when I got to him, his pulse was so _weak_ ; I called 911 immediately, but it took so _long_ for them to get there, I thought he was just gonna slip away and I wouldn’t be able to stop it."

There was another muffled sob before Jason continued.

"He— I— _God_ I wish I wasn't a fucking detective. He wanted to die so fucking bad, Bruce, and I wish I hadn't been able to see how much just from being in the fucking room. He mixed so much shit together, and— and there was an older-looking puddle of vomit a few feet away, I think— it looked like— _fuck_ — like he woke up, and when he figured out he was alive, he just rolled over and tried again." There was a sniffle. “And he cut himself up pretty bad— I didn’t know...I don’t think he was doing that before. I would have noticed— well, I think I would, but I don’t know, I don’t know anything. I didn’t notice he was gonna do _this_.” He sounded wretched.

“Nobody did, Jay, you can’t expect to have known if he didn’t want you to. Dick is good at hiding things when he wants to,” Bruce said, trying to keep his voice gentle despite how tense he was.

“What if he wanted me to notice? All the blood in the hotel was fairly fresh, so it _might’ve_ been a last minute thing, but maybe he was doing it before too. Or maybe he wasn’t, it doesn’t matter, maybe he wanted me to push more about why he was so happy suddenly. Maybe I made it worse. What if he thinks I don’t care because I didn’t even notice? 

“Or what if— what if I was making him feel guilty? We haven’t been doing anything really...you know...since… But I told him that was okay, but what if he felt like I was pressuring him or something? What if he thought I was lying? I—”

“Jay. You’re overthinking it. Stressing about this isn’t going to help Dick, and it’s only going to make you feel worse.”

“But...if it’s my fault, then I deserve it. I can’t kick my own ass, it’s the least I can do.”

That surprised a sharp laugh out of Bruce, and Jason gave a small, watery chuckle in return. 

“It’s not your fault, Jay. I’m certain. There are always things all of us could do better, I’m not saying none of us did anything that might have made things worse, but I am certain that it is not your fault.”

“Okay,” Jason said quietly.

“You don’t believe me still.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

There was quiet for a moment.

“Stay on the phone with me? I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Of course, Jay.” Bruce was just relieved that he was asking for help, rather than pushing him away...so far, at least. “I’ll be there in two hours.”

Jason ‘hmm’-ed in reply, and Bruce stayed quiet after that, not wanting to push his luck.

He finally got to the company jet, and plugged the coordinates Barbara had sent him for the hospital into it, before preparing for take off. 

As soon as he was in the air, he searched the map ahead for viable landing areas and sent a message to Barbara to order a cab to an address nearby. After a moment, he added in another short message. Perhaps now would be a good time to practice being a little more...appreciative sometimes.

_Thank you. I wouldn’t be using you as a secretary if it weren’t an emergency._

Now to contact Lucius and explain why he wouldn't be showing up for that meeting. Or work at all until further notice.

◇◇◇

He was still listening to Jason slowly, consciously breathing, when he approached the hospital.

“Okay, Jay?”

“Nn.”

“I’m about to land the jet in a park a few streets away from the hospital, and I’m going to get a cab to the hospital as Brucie, okay? I’m gonna stay on the phone with you. It’ll be 10 minutes.”

Jason cleared his throat, but still all he seemed to be able to get out was a small ‘Mm’.

Bruce landed the jet in the empty park. This was all much too conspicuous for his taste, but what was he supposed to do? One of his sons could be dying — had nearly died, in any case — and the other had been in hysterics, and now seemed to have succumbed to shock for the better part of two hours.

He hightailed it across the park to the road where the cab was waiting and slid in.

“Wayne. Blue Hill Memorial.” The taxi driver nodded, and began to pull out onto the road. 

Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled a wad of bills from his billfold, holding them toward the driver through the grating between them.

The driver glanced in the mirror. “Sir?”

“Please get me to the hospital as fast as humanly possible. This is yours.”

They glanced back uncertainly once again, before hesitantly taking the cash and pressing the gas pedal further.

“We’re turning into the drive right now, Jay,” he said lowly.

Jason managed a short, choked sound.

Before the car had fully stopped, Bruce had thanked the driver and was out the door, sprinting toward the front. 

Jason was leaned back against the brick, holding his phone painfully tightly against his ear, and Bruce was beside him in an instant.

“Jay.”

Jason managed to wrench his hand away from his phone, letting it clatter to the pavement, and pitched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Bruce like a vise.

Bruce hugged him back, laying a cheek against his hair. He could feel tears running down his neck and wetting the shoulder of his shirt, and Jason was shaking like a leaf. Bruce attempted to murmur some soothing noises — suddenly, painfully reminded of comforting an eight-year-old Dick when he had been woken by nightmares of his parents falling to their deaths again.

“I just need him to live, Dad. He can’t...I can’t handle him dying.”

Bruce held him tighter. “I know, Jay, I know son.”

Maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour passed, but eventually Jason seemed to cry himself out.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and shifted away — just enough to swipe the tears off of his face. “Can we go see if you being all _Bruce Wayne_ will get us in to see Dickie?” he mumbled, still huddled up against Bruce’s chest, and Bruce felt his heart break for the hundredth time that day.

Because Jason was still the fragile little snot-nosed kid he’d taken in off the street, who hid behind his anger and biting humor; and when he let that go, he was so vulnerable it ached to see. Even as physically intimidating as he had grown up to be, Bruce thought he still looked so unbearably young and small and _scared_.

“Yeah.” He patted Jason’s back, and they both finally let go. “Let’s go, champ.”

◇◇◇

It didn’t actually take a whole lot to get them let up to see Dick. The staff were a bit more trusting of billionaire Bruce Wayne in a pressed suit than some sketchy looking, semi-hysterical dude with no proof of relation, it turned out.

Dick was still unconscious, but a nurse informed them that it was just because of the pills he had taken, and that he would likely wake up in the next few hours.

While it was good to know Dick didn't seem to be in danger of going into a coma, it was still nerve-wracking to sit there not knowing when he might wake up. 

The nurses had cleaned him up a bit, thankfully, and he was in a clean hospital gown, but he still definitely looked worse for wear. He was pale and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair slightly sticking to his forehead with sweat, although his skin was frigid to the touch and he was shivering slightly in his sleep even with the blankets over him. He was hooked up to a remote heart monitor that transmitted straight to the nurse's station, and a small clamp on his finger monitored his blood oxygen level — both just precautions, the nurse assured them. There was also an IV in each arm, administering various antidotes and a saline drip, and thick bandages wrapping from his wrists all the way up to his elbows.

And sure, Jason knew that all the monitors and everything were routine, and the nurse had assured them that things looked very good, but he still couldn’t completely tamp down the fear and worry sitting heavily in his chest.

So he and Bruce sat silently on opposite sides of the bed, watching and waiting. 

After about three hours (and two nurses coming in to check vitals), Bruce stood up.

“I’m going to go get some coffee. You want me to get you one?”

Jason nodded absently, and continued to sit quietly, listening to the quiet _tick_ of the clock and the automated _whirr-click_ of the pump on the IV.

Perhaps a quarter of an hour passed in relative silence, before Dick blinked his eyes open, and stared up at the white ceiling, slowly taking in his surroundings. 

Oh god. _Fuck_. He was in a hospital. He was still alive.

He felt tears begin to spill out of the corners of his eyes.

Why did I wake up? _Why did I wake up?_

After a minute he realized he was saying that aloud, but he couldn’t stop repeating himself.

Jason didn’t know he could hurt any more than he already did, but watching Dick’s face crumple in what could only be described as profound _grief_ when he opened his eyes and realized he was still alive...fuck that hurt _so_ much worse than he could have imagined.

“Dick? Dickie?”

Dick continued to cry quietly, mumbling something to himself like a mantra.

Jason gently squeezed his hand. “Dick, sweetheart, hey.”

He finally turned his head toward Jason, and his face crumpled again.

“Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry.” He clutched Jason’s hand in a death grip, and his throat caught on a sob. “I don’t know why it didn’t work. Why didn’t it work?”

“Sweetheart…” Jason hesitantly picked his free hand up. “Can I touch your hair?”

Dick nodded, and Jason began running his fingers through it.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he finally said. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting so bad, but—” he swallowed hard, squeezing Dick’s hand even harder. “I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am it didn’t work.”

He swiped at his eyes, and quickly returned his hand to Dick’s hair, not meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice, I’m sorry you couldn’t tell me...I’m sorry I don’t know how to make it better,” he said quietly.

“There was nothing to notice — I didn’t want anyone to notice,” Dick said. “It's never going to get better. Nothing and no-one can make it better, and that’s why I just— I just…I’m so _tired_. I’m so tired of just having to keep _going_ , and more shit keeps happening, and it all keeps getting worse, and it never _stops_. And I’m just supposed to keep going anyway.”

His breath hitched. “And I just want to _stop_ , Jay. It hurts and I’m tired, and why can’t I just _let_ something be too hard for once? I feel guilty, but I don’t understand why I haven’t earned being able to give up, just _once_. I just came up here to do it because I didn't wanna make it worse for everybody else when I finally got to stop, that's all.”

Jason ducked his head down further so Dick couldn’t see his face, and clenched his hand lightly in Dick’s hair.

“I don’t know, sweetie. It isn’t fair.” He couldn’t rightly tell Dick his logic was _wrong_ — he’d had plenty of the same thoughts about himself over the years. 

He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the side of Dick’s stomach. “This okay?”

“Yeah.”

Jason stared at the blanket less than an inch away from his eyes, and watched as his first few tears sat there for a moment after they landed, before sinking in, wetting the fabric. 

“I love you so much, Dickiebird,” he mumbled, blindly twirling a lock of Dick’s hair around his fingers. “There’s absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you alive. And I’m sorry that that hurts you, I really am, but I gotta be selfish, Dickie. I can’t let you die.”

He turned his face to the side, away from Dick's face, and pulled their hands over to press a kiss to the back of his hand.

“It’s okay,” Dick said softly, wiping his eyes with his free hand. “I knew that already.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason repeated, burying his face back in Dick’s side. “I’m sorry. I love you.” 

He let his hand wander from Dick’s hair to caress his cheek, swiping a thumb over the curve of his jaw. Jason’s hand came to rest on the side of his neck, thumbing slowly over his pulse.

“Jay…I’m sorry — it’s just…” Dick paused. “It’s really you, yeah?” he asked, almost inaudibly, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted Jason to hear him.

Jason picked his head up. “Yeah, sweet pea," he brusquely swiped away his tears with the back of his hand, "it’s me.” He dropped another quick kiss on Dick’s knuckles. “You never gotta apologize. Quiz me, pumpkin.”

“It’s just so shitty, that even here, no matter what, I can’t ignore the need to check. You’re just trying to be supportive, and all I can do is keep being distrusting. It’s shitty. It makes _me_ feel shitty.”

“I’m sorry Dickie,” Jason said. “You’re not being shitty, okay? I don’t mind. You know I just want to make sure you feel safe, and I’m more than happy to answer a few little questions if it helps. If you asked me to fill out a forty page government form every time I wanted to so much as lay a finger on you, I’d do it, okay?”

Dick nodded and bit his lip, before finally asking him a couple of questions that presumably only he and Jason would know the answers to. Jason answered them correctly and gave his hand a small squeeze.

“Alright, sugar pie?”

“‘Sugar pie?’” he questioned, dubiously.

“You’ve let ‘pumpkin’ slide now. I’m testing my limits.”

Dick laughed. “Horrible.”

“I dunno, I think it’s cute. Almost as cute as you thinking the names won’t just keep getting worse.” Jason winked at him. “I’m building up slow so you don’t notice.”

Dick shook his head, hiding a grin.

The door opened, and they both looked over.

“Dick,” Bruce breathed out. He was standing stock-still, carrying a coffee in each hand. “You’re awake,” he said, startling into movement and walking around to the other side of the bed quickly, setting down the coffees on the side table.

“Can I hug you?”

Dick nodded, and Bruce wrapped his arms around his shoulders tightly, almost crushing. “Dick,” he murmured, “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so, so glad you’re okay. Please, _please_ never do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“I love you so much, Dickiebird. I need you here, okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbled into Bruce’s shoulder. “Love you too.”

“So...anyone else here I should know about?” Dick asked, when Bruce finally let go of him.

Jason shook his head. “No. I was the one who...found you, and I sort of freaked out and called Bruce...sorry. I don’t think anyone else knows yet, though.” He looked to Bruce, who shook his head as well.

“I didn’t tell anyone.” He frowned. “Although...it’s probably not very long until Damian, at the very least, starts looking into where I went, and I'm sure Barbara's pieced quite a bit together, since I contacted her for your location and to get a cab here.”

Dick sighed. “I’ll...call everyone. Just not right now.”

Oh he was not looking forward to this. How do you tell everyone you love that you tried to kill yourself? How was he supposed to ever look Damian in the eyes, knowing he'd tried to leave him — that he still wanted to?

Why did he have to fucking survive?


	15. Thirteen

Calling the family and telling them what had happened was one of the hardest things Dick had ever had to do.

Surprisingly, the hardest one wasn't Damian, it was Tim. 

"It's okay, it's okay, I don't blame you," he had kept saying, when Dick tried to apologize. "I understand, I _get it_."

Dick's breath had caught at the way Tim emphasized the words — surely Tim hadn't... _had_ he? Had Dick not noticed?

"I've been there too," Tim admitted, confirming Dick's fears. "After all the stuff with Bruce dying, and losing Robin, and then nobody believing me that Bruce was alive, and then all of my friends dying…I almost tried too. I get it, I don't blame you." He had taken a deep breath. "I know it fucking sucks, but I'm really glad you're alive, Dick. I know that doesn't make you feel better, but I am."

Dick had started crying again. "Thanks, Tim," he'd said, wiping fruitlessly at his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you've been here too and I didn't see it."

"I think we're even now," Tim said wryly. "Let's keep it that way, okay?"

The rest of the calls had by no means been easy, but they went more smoothly and with fewer tears from Dick after that. 

He had been bracing himself for anger from at least some of them, but there was none — they were all upset, to be sure, but not at him.

He was also thankful that none of them had pushed for more information than he gave. Dick wasn't really ready to talk about it more than just the very, very basics, and he was sure they were all concerned and curious, but he appreciated their restraint in not asking any questions.

Really, they had all been incredibly understanding about the whole situation, and he was so grateful for that.

After he'd hung up from the last call, though, he was left alone in the very, very boring hospital since it was now after visiting hours.

The very boring and yet very overbearing hospital, he thought, his eyes wandering again to the figure perched in the chair near the door.

Dick had to try very hard not to glare at the nurse assigned to him every time he looked in that direction. Really, the nurse had been nothing but nice, and had mostly been quiet and unobtrusive, but it was annoying not to have any privacy.

Once the staff had discovered he was awake, and done a small assessment, he had been informed that he would have to be on 'one-on-one', which apparently meant there must be a nurse watching him at all times because he was ‘high risk'.

Dick took that to mean that was their nice way of saying ‘you tried to kill yourself, so now you get no privacy so you can’t try again’. Seriously, he wasn’t even allowed to close the door all the way when he went to the bathroom. 

The bathroom was a whole process anyway, because he had to get the go-ahead to take off the blood oxygen monitor, and unplug the IVs from the wall. Luckily the heart monitor transmitted remotely, but it still had a heavy battery pack that usually sat in his lap, which he had to hold, otherwise the weight of it would pull the wires off of his chest.

And then maneuvering the IV stands over the high threshold into the bathroom (really, who had thought _that_ design up?) was a whole other process. And only _then_ could he go about figuring out how to arrange everything in the cramped room so he could actually do his business, while _also_ trying to arrange himself so he could get a bit of privacy from the nurse. Not that the nurse actively _looked_ , but it was still uncomfortable and vulnerable.

Oh yes, and after two minutes unplugged from the wall, the IV pumps started to beep loudly and shrilly pretty much _right_ in his ear. Usually while he was attempting to wash his hands without both hurting himself further, and fucking up the tape. Unfortunately, one of the IVs on each arm was right in the side of his wrist, so pretty much any time he moved his hands at all, they started bleeding again, and the tape was far from waterproof so it was constantly coming off. 

The _other_ IVs were right in the bends of his elbows, so he tried to keep his arms extended as much as possible so they didn't stab him, but that was difficult when he usually ended up having to make a quick grab for the heart monitor battery pack when it slipped off of the sloped edge of the sink where he had to set it to wash his hands. At least he didn't have to worry about the tape coming off as much with those ones, though.

So yeah, Dick tried to avoid the bathroom as much as possible.

Speaking of hospital annoyances, he wasn’t allowed to take a shower either, because they didn’t want to take the IVs or heart monitor off. Although that one he probably would skip out on anyway, if they didn't allow him to close the door. He really couldn't deal with a stranger potentially seeing him naked, even if they were a nurse and not really looking. He did his best not to think about how he got cleaned up and put into a hospital gown in the first place, because every time he thought about a nurse undressing his unconscious body he started to hyperventilate.

He _did_ really want a shower, though. It had been a few days now, and his attempts at washing up in the sink were not quite the same. What he wanted the most, though, was freedom from literally being tethered to all of these things. He wanted _out_ with the uncomfortable IVs; he wanted _gone_ with the heart monitor, which itched around the stickers and was generally an unwieldy nuisance; and he wanted _off_ with the awkward bandages, which they insisted on keeping over his forearms until the cuts fully healed so he couldn't pick at them. Oh, and privacy. He also really wanted some fucking privacy.

Unfortunately, though, for the near future that was looking to be an impossibility.

◇◇◇

It took eleven days — eleven days full of constant blood draws and horribly unwieldy bathroom breaks and mind-numbing boredom, and Jason and Bruce taking turns keeping him company with awkward conversation — until Dick's blood was finally pronounced clean enough of toxins that he could be transferred to a mental facility.

Bruce had arranged for him to go to a discreet hospital in Connecticut that apparently dealt with a lot of famous people. Thankfully, it also brought him a lot closer to home.

He supposed it was nice enough there so far, or as nice as a mental hospital could be, but it certainly had its drawbacks.

If Dick had thought the one-on-one watch at the first hospital was stifling, that was nothing compared to Silver Hill. Here it was called being 'on status', but it was the same idea.

He desperately wanted to take a shower now that all the needles and wires were off of him, but he was going to have to be on status for the first two days here at least, and there was no way in hell he was going to shower with somebody watching him through the _open door_ and the _clear shower curtain_. Absolutely none. 

One of the nurses went around every fifteen minutes to check and make sure everyone was present, accounted for, and not trying to harm themselves with what little there was to even attempt to do so with, and whatever nurse was doing rounds could potentially catch him in the shower, but he thought maybe he could deal with someone just glancing in like that, as long as they weren't sticking around and watching. Logically, he knew even the nurse watching him on status probably wouldn't be looking directly at him, but he still just didn't think he could handle it.

The intake had been bad enough when they'd had to do a body check to take note of any injuries, scars, or tattoos, and he'd had to let a nurse see him in just his underwear. The nurse had said he'd just needed a quick glance, but then he'd had to apologize and ask to see again because Dick had so many scars. It was possible Dick had momentarily lost control and started crying, and the nurse had just asked him to tell him where the rest of the scars were.

Another change from the last hospital was that he wasn't allowed to have utensils to eat here. He'd been allowed them at the other hospital, but here, since he was on status, all he got was this weird foldable cardboard spoon thing which was more hassle than it was worth. He just ate with his hands.

The one thing he was thankful for was that being on status meant he got to sit at one of the tables in the hallway and wait for one of the nurses to bring a food tray out to him, instead of having to go into the crush of the tiny cafeteria and wait in line. It wasn't really worth the lack of privacy, though.

Thankfully, he had one of the few single rooms, so he didn't have to deal with a roommate, but since he was on status, he wasn't allowed to shut his door, which sucked because it could get pretty damn loud and overwhelming sometimes. He also wasn't allowed to shut the bathroom door (which already had a significant gap between the top of the doorframe and the top of the door so it could be easily looked over). Usually the nurse watching him sat in a chair in his doorway, but when he went to the bathroom, they came into the room and stood outside the bathroom door with a hand between the door and the doorframe. It fucking _sucked_.

The other patients seemed alright, but nobody had really interacted with him so far, so it was hard to really tell. All in all, he didn't mind the other patients ignoring him — it would be nice to just fly under the radar for once, and he honestly didn't really want to complicate his life by making friends in here. He had his family and Jay, and hopefully some of them would be visiting later. 

He'd gotten to the hospital the evening before, after visiting hours, and he'd been especially bored without even his phone to entertain him when nobody was around anymore, since it had been confiscated upon check-in.

He'd also had his first therapy session that morning. There had not only been the doctor he was assigned to in the room with him, but also his social worker and two med students, all of whom he had been informed would be in attendance every time.

The session had gone… Well, it had _gone_ , in any case. Dick was afraid that maybe he had been too brutally honest, but how was he meant to get help if he didn't tell the truth?

"If you want me to really be honest," he had told the doctor, "I'm still upset it didn't work. I'm pissed and bitter that I'm still alive, and I feel stupid for not even being able to kill myself right. I should've just gotten a gun; that would've been much more effective. But I didn't want to do that to Bruce — my dad. I know how he feels about guns, after his parents...they were fatally shot in front of him, and I didn't want him to have to know a gun took another person away from him. And the easiest place to get a gun would be to take one of Jay's — my partner's — and I didn't want to do that to him either. To have to know that I killed myself with his own weapon. I know he'd feel responsible. Plus, he would've noticed it was missing and gone after me, and I didn't want him to be able to stop me."

"It sounds like you've thought about this in a lot of detail," Dr. Reed had calmly observed.

"Obviously. Killing yourself isn't really a spur-of-the-moment type thing — not if you want to make sure it works."

"You don't feel any sort of relief somewhere in there that it didn't work?"

Dick had scoffed. "No. The only relief I feel is that at least everybody didn't have to deal with my death, but on a personal level, thinking selfishly, no. I'm not happy _at all_ that it didn't work. And I would do it again if I thought I could get away with it." His voice had turned bitter. "But I fucking can't. Because I'm in here. And even if I wasn't, everybody would be fucking _watching me_ to make sure I couldn't."

"Doesn't any part of you want to stick around for the future? Just to see if it gets better? To spend more time with your loved ones?"

"I want to be selfish." Dick had said flatly. "I just want to be selfish for once in my fucking life. I love them all so much, I do, and I don't want them to suffer — I know how awful it is to lose loved ones — but _god_ I don't want to fucking be here. I don't want to be in my head. Sometimes I don't know if I can even take another second." He'd put his face in his hands. "Everything is just so fucking _awful_ all the time. And even the 'positives', my family and Jay, they're negatives as well because I can't stop hurting them and pushing them away, and that makes me feel even shittier. _Everything_ is awful, and everything hurts all the fucking time, and my life is falling — _has_ fallen — apart. 

"At least if I was dead, they would be able to deal with the hurt all at once. Like this, they have to deal with me hurting them more every day and pushing them away. And I know they can see how dead inside I am, and I know _that_ hurts them too. I just want it to be over. It would hurt them, but they would get through it, they have each other to lean on. And Jay, I know it would be harder for him and he wouldn't want to lean on any of them, but he has Roy. That was what decided it for me."

"Who is Roy?" Dr. Reed had asked.

"An old friend and an ex of mine, and probably Jay's best friend."

"Alright, and how did he decide things for you?"

Dick had chewed on his thumbnail. "Jay invited him over to our place, and I just...saw how well they're able to support each other and I just knew that if I left they would be okay because they would have each other to help them get through it. And...if it happened to turn into something more, then at least I wouldn't have to worry about Jay being lonely."

"You wanted to set them up together?"

Dick had shrugged, his voice dropping to an almost-whisper. "Yeah. If I can't be there… I just want him to be as happy as he can be. And I think he genuinely could be happy after a bit, once I was just a memory. Maybe even happier than he is now, without me constantly dragging him down and pushing him away."

Dr. Reed had made a small mark on his clipboard. "I see."

And that had been the end of the session. Dick still didn't know just what to make of it and what the doctor thought of him.

"Richard, you have some visitors." A nurse stopped in his doorway to tell him and the nurse currently watching him.

Dick looked up from the (honestly pretty dry) book that Bruce had brought him at the last hospital, and got up quickly. _Yes_. People, finally.

Dick left his room, with the nurse assigned to him getting up from her chair and following after, and he was surprised to see, not Bruce and Jason as he had expected, but Alfred, Tim, and Harper Row waiting at the end of the hall near the ward door.

"Wow, hi Harper," he waved at her as he approached. "You didn't have to come visit me in here."

He tentatively hugged her, and she held on tightly.

"Hey Dick; I wanted to. I didn't know about everything that happened — I've been so busy with the shop and I haven't really been online, but when Steph told me she was coming to visit you and caught me up on everything, I wanted to come check in on you too."

"Oh, well thank you," he said, pulling back and trying not to cringe at the fact that now she knew his shame too. She was family though, once a bat always a bat, so it only made sense that she would find out sooner or later. "Stephanie's here?"

"Yeah, she and the others are downstairs. Only three visitors per person are allowed up at once," Tim spoke up, holding his arms out for a hug of his own. His eyes flicked briefly down to the new scars on Dick's arms and Dick pretended not to notice.

"The others?" Dick asked, embracing him.

"Yeah, everybody wanted to see you. Well everyone except Dami — he wanted to, but you have to be eighteen or older to visit on the ward and he's pissed about not being allowed up."

"Wow," Dick repeated. He hadn't really expected all of them to come visit him. "Is Jay around?"

Tim shook his head. "I think he said he was gonna come this evening once we were all gone."

Dick nodded. "That sounds about right. Hey Alfred," he said, turning toward him and pulling him into a hug too.

Alfred moved the container he was holding out to the side so Dick wouldn't crush it, patting Dick's back with the other hand.

"Did you bring me cookies?" he asked hopefully, looking at the container.

"Oatmeal chocolate chip," Alfred confirmed, and Dick's grin widened. Of course Alfred had brought his favorite.

"You're the best."

The three of them talked to Dick for about half an hour before leaving to let some of the others come up.

"Sorry, Steph is blowing up my phone," Tim said. "They're getting impatient."

"It's alright," Dick laughed, "I'll talk to you guys later."

Stephanie, Cass, and Duke came up next, and then Bruce, Selina, and Kate, and by the time they were all gone, Dick was feeling all peopled out. It was nice to see them all and to have people to talk to, but so many at once was a little overwhelming.

He was curled up in one of the armchairs in the day room eating his afternoon snack by himself (well, technically with the nurse shadowing him, but he was ignoring him) and looking vaguely in the direction of the TV, which was turned to some random wedding show, when one of the other patients hesitantly approached him.

"Uh, there's a call for you on the phone next to the lunch room," they said, not looking at him, and then quickly scampered away.

Huh. That was kind of weird, but Dick guessed they must be shy.

He made his way to the phone and picked up the receiver, which was hanging by the cord.

"Hello?"

"Hey sunshine, just wanted to call before I visited. I know the whole family was there today and I just wanted to check in and see if you still want me to come or if you're feeling kind of done for the day."

That was thoughtful of him. Dick was struck once again by how lucky he was to have Jason in his life. Even if he insisted on calling him increasingly ridiculous pet names. 

Sunshine was actually kind of cute, though — not that Dick would ever admit that.

"Thanks, Jay. I don't know that I'm up for any more conversation, but I enjoy your company. Maybe we could just sit on the couch and read? Also...is there any chance you could bring some of my clothes for me? And maybe something science fiction from our bookshelf? Bruce's books kind of suck."

Jason snorted. "Sure thing, honeypie."

" _Jay_ ," he whined.

"What, you don't like honeypie?"

" _No_."

"What's wrong with honeypie?" Jason muttered to himself. "Princess?"

"I'm a twenty eight year old man, Jay. No."

"Hey, anybody can be a princess," Jason defended.

Dick shook his head, trying to suppress a smile. "Never in a million years."

"Well somebody's just not in a very receptive mood today."

Dick huffed out a small laugh. "You're lucky I let sunshine slide. Oh, and please make sure nothing has any drawstrings or laces or anything on it, or they won't let me have it."

"Okay. I'll be there around dinner time...snuggle muffin?"

Dick laughed again. Oh that was _truly_ heinous — surely even Jason couldn't be serious about that.

"Never again. See you then."

Jason's voice turned serious. "I love you, Dickiebird."

"Love you too, Little Wing," he said softly.

Dick was relieved to get out of the hospital scrubs they'd given him upon check-in when Jason arrived with several changes of clothes, and he settled onto the couch with Jason, already a hundred times more comfortable in his own clothes. 

Hopefully he'd be off status tomorrow and finally able to take a shower.

◇◇◇

Thankfully he did get his long-awaited shower the next day. After talking to his doctor, he was finally released from being on status, and the first thing he did was go to his room and close the door. The immediate relief from just being able to do that one little thing was _intense_.

The shower turned out to be as much of a let-down as it was a relief. It was motion sensor activated like the sink, and it shut off every thirty seconds seemingly no matter _what_ Dick did. Apparently they were _very_ invested in making sure drowning was an impossibility.

All the same, he was glad to finally be _actually clean_ after it for the first time in two fucking weeks. 

There was a knock on the door just as he finished getting dressed and started towelling off his hair, and he opened it to see another patient.

Her eyes widened when she saw him, and Dick wondered to himself exactly what she had been expecting when she'd knocked on the door, if not for him to appear. Okay, that was kind of mean — they were in a mental hospital, she probably had anxiety issues.

She quickly redirected her eyes to the floor. "Th— er. Phone. End of the hall. For you." She pointed toward the phone near the nurse's station.

"Thanks." 

She ran off toward the day room, and Dick tossed his towel onto his desk and headed to the phone.

It turned out to be the first of _several_ calls from various friends and fellow vigilantes, including one from Garth, who had apparently, like Harper, just heard about everything that happened, since he had been in Atlantis.

Most of Dick's day ended up being spent on the phone with various people, until Jason visited around dinner time again.

◇◇◇

Dick was in the day room, curled in one of the actually nice cushy chairs, absentmindedly running his fingers over the ladder of scars on his forearm and waiting for the afternoon group to start. 

He'd found himself touching the scars a lot since they'd finally taken the bandages off at the first hospital. They were raised and pale, standing out starkly against his skin, and he had been told that they were too deep for scar cream to have any hope of fading them much. Dick couldn't really find it in himself to care, though. There was something soothing about stroking over the long series of smooth bumps, even if they were a permanent reminder of his failure, and even if he would surely now have a lifetime of questions about them once he got back into the outside world. For now, though, he didn't need to worry about that — he could just sit and run his fingers over them and feel grounded in the moment.

"Hey," the young woman who had just sat in the chair next to him said.

"Hey," he said, not looking up from where he was staring at a tile on the floor a few feet away. He was pretty sure she was the first patient to talk to him other than people telling him he had a phone call, but he didn't really have the energy for small talk with a stranger right now.

"You looked like you could use some company. Noticed you haven't really been interacting with anybody since you got here."

Dick shrugged.

"I mean, you seem nice, I think people want to be friends with you. You're just a little bit intimidating is all and nobody really knows how to approach you."

That got his attention and he looked over at her. "Intimidating? How am I intimidating?" Usually he was known for being friendly, maybe even overly so. He knew he hadn't really been _trying_ here, but still, he didn't think he qualified as _intimidating_. Then again, all the people telling him he had a phone call _had_ been pretty skittish.

Her face slowly flushed when he met her eyes, and she looked away, down at the arm of her chair. "You're just, uh, like. Really pretty. Like supermodel gorgeous. And it, uh, feels like you're out of everybody's league, like, uh, even just to talk to."

Her voice wasn't even the slightest bit similar, but her words still snagged at his memory.

_**So pretty for me, baby. Gorgeous...** _

He could hear it clear as day, Jason — _not_ Jason — murmuring the words to him.

And then all at once like a slap in the face, he wasn't just hearing it, he could taste the warm, Blüdhaven night air and the panic crawling its way up his throat; could smell the wrong, _wrong_ tang of sweat and unfamiliar, cloying aftershave; could feel the adrenalin coursing through his veins, and the horrid _hands_ , on his body, on his face. 

Dick felt a tear slip down his cheek, quickly followed by two more. He tried to force himself to say thank you — it was a compliment after all — but the words wouldn't come out through the panic building in him.

It was disorienting the way he felt simultaneously overwhelmed with how intensely he felt just as if he was back there when it was happening, but how he could also tell he was in the hospital, could see and feel it, and that he was supposed to be talking to someone, supposed to be thanking them for calling him pretty.

"Hey are you okay?"

He barely heard her through all the sensory input in his head.

_**Perfect. Stunning...** _

The tears started coming faster. 

"I'm sorry," he finally managed to choke out as the tears started really pouring. "I gotta go."

He practically fled the day room, his socks sliding against the floor even with the grips on the bottoms of them.

_**I want you...** _

He shut himself in his room with the lights off and curled up on his bed, arms wrapped securely around himself, thumb running over and over and over the scars on the inside of his wrist.

_**You're so gorgeous, look at you babydoll…** _

The door opened, letting the bright lights and noise from the corridor in.

"Richard? Are you okay? Sabrina said you didn't look like you were doing too well."

All Dick could get out was a choked sob.

"Dr. Reed wants to see you now, do you think you can talk to him?"

Dick just wanted to be left alone, but he knew it wasn't really a choice. If he wanted to get out of this place anytime soon, he had to cooperate and go where he was expected.

He got to his feet, swiping ineffectively at his face, unable to stop the flood of silent tears, and grabbed his heaviest jacket, wrapping it around himself. There couldn't be hands on him if the jacket was in the way — it didn't matter what it felt like, _there were no hands_.

Dick followed along behind the nurse to Dr. Reed's office and managed to sit himself down on the couch, though he could hardly see through his tears. He immediately brought his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs tightly.

The social worker reached over and closed the door.

"Would you like to talk about why you're crying, Richard?" Dr. Reed finally asked, after maybe five minutes of silence.

Dick wiped at his face again and attempted to take a deep breath. "I— I'm. I'm so tired of being _pretty_ ," he finally got out. "It _hurts_. It just makes people forget that I'm human. Makes them think they can do whatever they want just because they like the way I look." 

He took another deep, shuddering breath, trying to ignore the scribbling of the two med students in the corner on their clipboards.

"And I just don't want people to look at me anymore, I don't want them to have thoughts about me, I don't want to exist in their minds. None of it. And I'm sick of having to pretend it's a compliment when it's really just an excuse to _use_ me. I don't want to have a face or a body or _anything_ , I don't want to _exist_ to other people. I don't want to exist _at all_."

"And what do you think has brought these thoughts about?" Dr. Reed asked.

" _Everything_. Everything. My entire fucking life I have had to deal with _eyes_ on me. At the circus that's how it was _supposed_ to be; I'm a fucking performer, I never saw an issue with it. But then Bruce took me in and I had to learn that it doesn't fucking matter if I'm in the ring or just going about my life, there are going to be eyes and they are always going to be watching, admiring, _fantasizing_ ," he spit the word. "And I don't get _any say in it_."

He ran an agitated hand through his hair, not realizing that in his anger he had stopped crying. "Do you know how many times I had to hear rumors that Bruce was fucking me? When I was _eight?!_ Or worse, the ones saying that they couldn't blame him because I was so _pretty_. Or the ones wondering if he would _share_ , like just because I was a child meant I couldn't hear what they were fucking saying!"

He gave a bitter laugh. "And it's not like they waited very long to start touching me too! _I_ don't even know how many fucking times I've been groped anymore." He unconsciously slid his hands up the opposite sleeves of his jacket, and began to scratch at the backs of his forearms as he talked, staring distantly at the wall beside the doctor's head, his voice lowering. "So many hands, _so many_ fucking hands have been on me. And that's not even counting the— the—" He swallowed hard, giving up on trying to say the word. "I'm never gonna be clean. I can't be anymore, not when I'm so _used_."

" _Fuck_ ," he whispered, half to himself, digging his nails in deeper against his arms, "how am I still such a stupid fucking slut? God, maybe once, but who lets that happen _four fucking times_ and doesn't fucking learn? How am I still such a goddamn _idiot?_ "

He clenched his eyes shut tightly, hissing in a deep breath and tilting his head back so his face was turned to the ceiling, his nails raking over his arms harshly before returning to his earlier train of thought.

"Sometimes I don't even think god — if there even is one — could count how many people have touched me. It's _always_ happening. _Always_. And the more people do it, the more people think it's okay. They take the lead from the last person and go on ahead, because it's not as if it matters how _I_ fucking feel about it." His voice was bitingly bitter at the end.

"I still remember my first week at school in Gotham, I was having lunch with some new friends, and when I got up from the table, one of them slapped my fucking ass! And do you know what he said? 'Sorry, I couldn't help it'. _Sorry I couldn't help it!_ We were eight! Where did he fucking learn that?!" Dick's voice had risen in volume again, and it was full of righteous fury. "And it only fucking got worse the older I got! Not only my peers, but adults! The older I got, the less subtle they got, and by the time I was sixteen, they didn't bother to even act ashamed! For not even just groping me, but straight up kissing me on the mouth! I'm sick of it! I'm _sick of it!_ I don't want to be fucking _percieved_ anymore!"

"I'm sorry to hear that, that all sounds very difficult," Dr. Reed said.

"Difficult is a fucking understatement. It's exhausting and impossible and _violating_ , and it never gets better no matter what I do, it only gets worse. Always _worse_. It doesn't matter what I wear or how I act; worse, worse, _worse_. And if I get upset about it, then I look like an asshole because _'it's a compliment'_ and I _'shouldn't be surprised anymore'_. Well fuck that, I have the right to expect that I should be able to go about my daily fucking life without getting harrassed or assaulted! Why am I not allowed to go anywhere or do anything without getting hit on or leered at or worse?"

Dick's shoulders slumped. "I don't— _fuck_ , I don't even know who I'm angry at. Sometimes it's all of them for doing it, but then I know it's also my fault for being such a fucking whore and letting it happen. I just don't wanna be pretty anymore; I don't know how else to make it stop."

His voice lowered further still, his anger completely abandoning him and the tears starting to prick at his eyes again. "You know that's what he said, too, when he was doing it. The— the most recent one. He just kept telling me how fucking _pretty_ I was. Made me look at him so he could see my eyes. And he just kept saying it, telling me how _perfect_ I was." His voice sounded weak and pathetic even to his own ears, and he dropped his face into his hands. "I'm just so done, I'm _so done_ with it all. I don't wanna be perceived."

"That's understandable," Dr. Reed said. "You've clearly been through quite a bit."

"I don't even feel human anymore. How can I be?" he mumbled. "Nobody sees me as human, nobody _treats_ me as human. I'm just a fucking toy." His tears started in earnest again. "And I don't wanna be," he sobbed out. "I don't wanna be. I don't wanna exist."

"You don't think your family sees you as human? Or your partner? Or your friends?"

" _No_ ," he said vehemently through his tears, looking up. "They see me as a ticking time bomb that the slightest move could set off. I don't know why they still bother with me — they all clearly don't know how to act around me."

"Well they must bother for a reason. You don't think they love you?"

"I know they love me," Dick said, wrapping his arms back around his legs and squeezing his knees to his chest. "It's just that I think they let that blind them to the fact that I'm just dragging them all down. And I never know when they're gonna finally realize that and quit fucking trying."

"Do you want them to quit trying?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I don't want them dragged down by me, and I also hate feeling like one day they'll wake up and realize, so I just want the waiting to be _over_ already. But I don't really want them to. I love them, and I need them, but that's such a selfish reason to keep them stuck with my dead weight."

"I see. You don't think there's any chance they don't see you as dead weight? That maybe they _want_ to help you?"

Dick scoffed. "They're all too damn smart not to eventually see the reality of the situation."

"Hm," Dr. Reed hummed, noncommittally. "Well I believe that's all our time for the day."

Dick noticed that in the coming days, none of the other patients tried to approach him again.

◇◇◇

Jason wouldn't admit it, but when he needed cheering up, he liked to watch Batwatcher best clips compilation videos. And he sure as hell needed cheering up lately. 

Right now what he needed distraction from was The Man's trial, which had been yesterday. 

There was, of course, an article in the Gotham Gazette about the trial and sentencing. Thankfully, the video was not mentioned, and the article managed to not sound like it was on The Man's side like the article on the video had.

The Man had, of course, been convicted — just as Jason knew Bruce would make sure of — and he had been sentenced to fifteen years: unfortunately the maximum sentence for the situation. Jason didn't think that was nearly long enough, but Jason had connections in the prisons and he could definitely get him quietly... _dealt with_ by another prisoner just before he was up for parole. Best to let him suffer through the imprisonment as long as possible before ending his sorry life. He'd have to make sure he was very careful and cleaned up after himself, though, because Bruce would surely investigate, but Jason thought he could do it. No way would that fucker be walking free under his watch.

There had also been a bit of an internet frenzy about a post on the Batwatcher subreddit where the recording of That Night had originally been posted. It was, or proclaimed to be, by one of the jurors in the trial. Thankfully, they were much more respectful and discreet with how much information they shared than the poster of the video had been.

> So. I don't know if this is the right place to post this, but this is where the Nightwing video was originally posted and I don't know where else it should go.
> 
> I was one of the jurors on the Nightwing rape case today. Obviously this is a burner account for anonymity. 
> 
> Basically, what you need to know is that there was a recording of everything that went down that was presented as evidence. Apparently all the bats have connected earpieces, and their tech person recorded it.
> 
> I'm not gonna tell you everything I heard, because honestly it was all just so fucked up and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I don't care what you think, you don't actually want to hear it. Like if you thought the original video/recording was disturbing and sad and just all around upsetting, this was multiple times worse. Also, if I was Nightwing, I don't think I'd want anyone to hear it, or at least not more people than necessary to convict him. I do feel compelled to say a few things about it, though.
> 
> First of all, Davies (the defendant, if you didn't know) had bought some sort of spell that allowed him to look and sound exactly like the Red Hood, who is apparently dating Nightwing (I didn't know this, but apparently some of the other jurors did. I mean I'm a Gothamite so obviously I know about vigilante shit, but I don't like actively keep up or Batwatch or anything). Apparently this was already speculated about because of the video, but yeah it's true, he thought it was his boyfriend the whole time. 
> 
> It started out with him thinking it was consensual, which was bad enough, but it quickly devolved when he got freaked out over something and asked him to stop and he wouldn't. Honestly, him thinking it was his boyfriend was the most fucked up part, just straight up *evil*. Like there's not another word for it. He sounded so betrayed, it was awful.
> 
> Second, he had fucked with Nightwing's earpiece somehow so he couldn't hear any of the other bats, and he thought that they couldn't hear him and that nobody even knew anything was wrong. 
> 
> Third, I didn't even think about it when they were first introducing the recording, but since they all have connecting earpieces, all of the bats had to listen to it happening while they couldn't get there in time. And let me tell you, you don't want to have had to hear their desperation as they tried to get to Blüdhaven and how upset they were at some of the things they were hearing. Some of their reactions made some of the jurors cry, seriously. I can't even imagine how all of the bats must be feeling, I don't know how they can deal with that. I don't know how Red Hood is dealing with that. I mean, not only did he have to hear his boyfriend getting raped, he had to hear Nightwing thinking it was HIM doing it. 
> 
> I especially don't know how Nightwing is dealing with it, although I'm sure beating him into a coma was at least somewhat cathartic. 
> 
> And for the record, I 100% don't blame him for that, and I wouldn't have blamed him even if he *had* killed Davies. I don't think any of the other jurors would have either. I know I keep saying it, but it was just really really fucked up.
> 
> Now onto the most important thing: I keep seeing people online saying victim-blamey shit and asking why he didn't fight him off or something, and I just want to say Shut That Shit Up. First of all, he thought it was his boyfriend, *you* try hurting someone you love. It's not always easy to hurt a loved one even if they're hurting you. Secondly, it's Red Hood. He's a big fucking guy, no doubt physically stronger than Nightwing. And thirdly, HE HAS GUNS. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK NIGHTWING'S GOING TO BE ABLE TO DO IN CLOSE QUARTERS WHEN THE GUY COULD SHOOT HIM IN A SECOND. He had him cornered, there was no room for him to be able to fight and try to dodge a bullet.
> 
> It's not like he didn't do anything either, obviously he *tried* to get the guy to stop. So I'm just sick of seeing that shit. Knock it off. If you'd heard what I heard, you wouldn't even think about saying something like that.
> 
> So yeah, I guess that was all I really had to say about it. I honestly wish the judge would've given him life in prison, because 15 years is just not enough, like that guy should never be allowed back into society.
> 
> I heard Nightwing hasn't been seen out in a couple of weeks, and I hope that wherever he is, he's doing okay. That's all I guess.

Jason shook his head to clear it, trying to push the trial and the post and the whole situation completely out of his mind.

He squeezed Dick's Zitka plushie tighter and clicked on a Nightwing-specific compilation video. The video started with Dick and Tim sparring on a rooftop, Dick's laughter carrying clearly across the night. He did a back handspring away from Tim's low sweep with his bo staff.

"You're supposed to be the quick one, Red. Catch up!"

Tim lunged forward and tried to get a hit in on his flank, but Dick bent back almost to the rooftop, dodging the hit, and lashed out with his leg at Tim's ankle. Tim went down, but rolled with the fall and back onto his feet in a crouch. Dick swung an Escrima Stick down at his neck at the same time Tim jabbed the end of his bo staff at Dick's chest, and they both stopped just short of making contact.

Tim grinned. "What was that about catching up?"

"It's a stalemate, don't get cocky," Dick said, holding out a hand to pull him up. He ruffled Tim's hair, and Tim tried to duck away from it. "Excellent footwork though, very clean."

"Thanks. You gonna teach me to do a Zapata now?"

"Nice try, Red, but you didn't win."

Tim pouted. "We _both_ won, so _technically_ …"

Dick laughed. "Why do you wanna learn it so bad? You're not gonna be able to put it to any practical use."

"Yeah, but I can hold it over Robin's head that I can do it and he can't. He can do a double layout too now."

Dick laughed again. "Oh that's so petty," he said, sounding delighted. "You know he's just gonna learn this too, though."

"Yeah, but in the meantime…"

Dick shook his head fondly. "Alright, next weekend if you're free. We'll need to use the Cave, because neither of us have nearly enough room."

"Lit." Tim held his hand up for a high-five, and Dick complied. "Catch you later!" He shot off his grappling gun and swung away.

Jason smiled fondly at the screen, as the clip transitioned to another. He'd almost forgotten how _alive_ Dick used to be, how vibrant and bright instead of the dead, empty shell he was now...

Jason shook his head again and refocused on the video. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about depressing stuff. 

The next clip was kind of grainy, clearly having been zoomed in from far away, but it was still clear enough to see who it was. Dick was leaning back on one hand, drinking coffee and dangling his legs over the edge of a building.

A little annotation popped up, saying, 'Just wait, it's worth it'.

A few seconds later, Jason saw himself swing up onto the building. This clip had no audio, but Jay could almost hear his, "Hey baby," even if he didn't remember this exact night. 

Dick got to his feet, abandoning his coffee on the edge of the roof as Jason popped his helmet off, letting it drop from his hand, and they eagerly headed toward each other, clearly saying something that the camera couldn't pick up. They met in the middle, Jason's hands immediately going to cradle Dick's face and Dick's hands grasping at his waist, both of them stumbling across the rooftop as they kissed passionately. 

Ah, this had clearly been from early in their relationship, when they'd hardly been able to keep their hands off each other.

His chest ached a little, watching their past selves so caught up in each other, unburdened by the troubles that plagued them now and the impossible distance between them. 

He watched a few moments more, before skipping forward to the next clip with a sigh. This whole video thing wasn't doing a very good job at cheering him up. Everything just seemed to be making him more sad.

◇◇◇

Jason was visiting again, in the morning this time, and Dick couldn't stop zoning out. 

Dick had been complaining about being afraid his physical fitness and his detective skills would both atrophy while he was stuck in the hospital, and Jason had told him not to worry about it, but he just couldn't stop thinking about it. 

He had taken to doing stretches and some smaller exercises in his room — sometimes earning very surprised looks from whatever nurse came in to do checks and caught him doing freestanding handstand push-ups, or reading a book while in a split or twisted in any number of contortionist poses on the floor — but it didn't feel like _enough_. He wasn't able to do any running or flips or sparring, and he was afraid he was going to end up getting his ass kicked once he finally got back in the field. 

Jason was saying something now about his patrol last night, but Dick found his attention wandering again without his permission, Jason's voice fading out. 

His nightmare from that morning took advantage of his wandering thoughts, and started to shove its way back into his mind.

_**I just want to make you feel good…** _

Dick shuddered and tried to force himself to listen to what Jason was saying, stroking his fingers over the scars on his forearm to try to ground himself, but all he could hear was his voice from That Night.

_**I want you. You're so gorgeous, look at you babydoll…** _

It's not happening, it's not happening, _it's not happening right now_. His fingers pressed harder against his skin, running up and down, up and down, up and down.

He vaguely registered Jason's voice turning up in a question, but he didn't think he'd have been able to answer even if he'd heard what it was. All he could catch was that familiar rough baritone that was sinking its claws into Dick's lungs, tearing as it clung to him. _It wasn't Jay, it wasn't Jay, his voice was just stolen. It wasn't Jay._ _ **This**_ _is Jay. This is the real Jay_.

Dick grabbed frantically, blindly, for Jason's hand, snatching at anything to ground himself here in the present. As soon as their fingers linked, though, Dick knew that was the wrong move. His world tilted dangerously on its axis, and his stomach dropped. Without realizing it, he ripped his hand away almost as soon as he'd made contact with Jason.

Dick felt himself trip slightly, and _oh_ , he was walking now, stumbling his way quickly down the hall, his vision still tilting and his ears still ringing with Jason's voice.

He almost made it to his bathroom before he threw up, still barely able to see with the way his vision was twisting and starting to blur, but he was in his room at least. His knees hurt, and he realized that he was on them, one hand braced against the floor as his body heaved again. There was nothing to come up, though, just burning bile. He hadn't eaten anything yet, he thought vaguely.

Dick felt his arm start to tremble, and managed to push himself back to sitting before he ended up face first in a puddle of vomit. He felt a tapping on the tops of his thighs and belatedly registered wet. Tears. Of course he was crying again.

Silent tears continued to pour from his eyes as he tried to focus on the bathroom door in front of his face. He couldn't tell if it was just his vision or if his body was swaying.

"Richard?" he heard a nurse ask, from somewhere close by.

 _ **Let me take care of you…**_ his head whispered.

"Dick?" came Jason's soft, concerned voice, and Dick made a choked sound, his head shaking no before he gave it permission.

"Shh," he managed to get out, bringing a finger to his lips, clutching at his head with his other hand. "Shh."

**_It doesn't feel like you want me to stop, now does it?_ **

He could feel phantom hands grabbing at him, a thigh firm against his groin, a leather glove tracing over his lips.

_**You feel so lovely just like this...** _

Dick vaguely registered his head falling forward, his neck apparently unable to hold it up any longer, and he sat there, crying on the floor in silence for who knows how long until the whispers in his head quieted. 

He took a deep breath in and held it for a count of eight, before slowly, slowly letting it back out. He repeated the process. And again.

"I need to be alone," he finally whispered out, wiping in vain at his wet face.

"Do you think you can move to your bed for a few minutes so I can clean up the floor?" the nurse asked.

Dick nodded numbly. 

He took a few moments to mentally gear up, and then hauled himself up off the floor, walked the few steps to his bed, and sat down on the edge. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jason still standing in the doorway waiting, but he couldn't bring himself to look at him while the nurse cleaned up the dried puddle of bile on the floor.

It was dim in the room, he realized. Huh. Guess nobody had turned the light on while he was having his little breakdown. Part of him was grateful — the last thing anyone needed was a better view of that.

"Alright, there we go," the nurse said, tossing the paper towels in his trash bin. "Do you want to talk to someone, Richard? I can talk to you, or I can find somebody else to talk, maybe one of the therapists?"

Dick shook his head.

"Are you okay to be alone right now?"

Dick nodded.

"Do you need anything?"

Another head shake.

"Okay. I hope you feel better soon, Richard." She left the room.

Jason stepped forward, and leaned on the doorframe. "Sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. Not babydoll. This was the real Jason. Everything's fine. It's not him. _It's not him_.

"I need to be alone," Dick repeated quietly.

 _Not him_.

Even so, Dick didn't think he could handle much more of Jason's voice today.

"Okay," Jason said softly. "Okay."

Dick got up and started to close the door, and Jason stepped back to let him.

"I love you."

Dick nodded and shut the door.

Alone. Nobody else here. Nobody could touch him. Nobody could look at him. Alone.

Dick wished the door had a lock.

He turned to the bathroom and started the shower. He ended up scrubbing his skin raw trying to get the feeling of hands off of him, and he'd started crying again at some point during it — probably around the time a nurse came in to do fifteen minute checks, though they thankfully didn't open the bathroom door — but somehow he felt like he was breathing a little easier at least by the end of it. 

He got into pajamas and got in bed. Maybe a nap would help him reset.

His pillow was wet with tears by the time he finally drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Dick's little school anecdote is something that actually happened to me when I was 7. The whole breakdown about being Percieved™ is also from me — that's a longstanding classic of mine. Have I mentioned how much this fic is just me projecting onto Dick? Because, yeah. That.
> 
> Also, Silver Hill _is_ a (very expensive) discreet mental hospital in Connecticut that is known for hosting rich and famous people, and I do have 2 friends that have gone there, but rather than try to base it off of their accounts, I based this chapter off of my experience at a completely different hospital. So yeah, this is not at all accurate to Silver Hill (or Blue Hill Memorial, for that matter).


	16. Fourteen

It didn't take long for a daily routine to develop over the next couple of weeks. He would get woken up at nine with a knock on his door and a nurse coming in to tell him in a disappointed voice that he'd missed breakfast again, and to go get his morning meds before the meds window closed. He'd get up, trying to choke back the panicked tears from the nightmare he'd inevitably just been woken up from enough to go get his stupid fucking meds. 

He'd pull on a sweatshirt and pull up the hood to hide his teary face, and then walk briskly down the hall, head down, to the window beside the nurse's station, let them scan his hospital bracelet, and take the meds they gave him with shaky hands in front of the nurse there, opening his mouth after to show that it was empty, before going back to his room and getting in the shower, letting himself finally cry it out.

Jason would usually show up right around when he finished showering, and he'd stay until around lunchtime, then after lunch usually someone or other would call Dick on one of the phones, then Dick would go to the afternoon group session. Talking to his doctor changed times every day, and could be any time from when he'd just been woken up through the end of afternoon group — a nurse just came and told him Dr. Reed was ready to talk to him, and he just had to leave whatever he was doing. 

After group, Bruce and sometimes one or two of the others would come see him and stay until dinner, then after dinner was wrap-up group, and then usually a couple more people would call him, and finally he would call Jason right before lights out.

Thankfully lights out only meant the dimming of the lights in the halls, and that the TVs — one in the day room and one at one end of the L-shaped hall — were turned off and the phones taken off the hooks. They were allowed to have their lights on in their rooms if they wished, so for the rest of the night, Dick would read and do whatever small workouts in his room he could get away with, and usually fall asleep for a few hours around dawn.

Dick was tired of this place in general, but he was finding his talks with his doctor particularly exhausting. Not because talking through his trauma and dark thoughts took a lot out of him — although it did — but because of Dr. Reed. 

He had hoped maybe it would get better with time, but it had been _weeks_ and the doctor was still clinical and removed to the extreme. Dick knew of course mental health professionals couldn't become personally invested past a certain point, but he thought they were supposed to care at least a _little_ bit. Dr. Reed didn't even _pretend_ to care.

The doctor wasn't rude or anything, it was just that most of the things he said sounded like he was replying to just another faceless, indistinct patient, like they weren't direct replies to what Dick was _saying_ , just stock responses in the general vicinity. It didn't help either that Dr. Reed repeatedly asked him the same questions — not ones he was supposed to repeat like checking in on Dick's symptoms for the day, but things Dick had already explained in exhaustive detail multiple times over.

Basically, what it came down to was that it just felt like the doctor wasn't actually listening to anything he said. 

He had tried to bring it up with Dr. Reed, to explain that it felt really frustrating and like he wasn't being listened to when he kept having to repeat the same things, but the doctor had merely said he was sorry to hear that, and then proceeded to change absolutely nothing.

After that, Dick had enquired with the nurses about possibly switching to one of the other doctors — of which there were two — but had been told that it was not allowed. And so he had resigned himself with having to deal.

He also was starting to really hate the group sessions, because most of them were complete repeats every few days and it was incredibly boring to hear the same lecture and fill out the same worksheet every time. But he had to keep showing up if he wanted to get out of the hospital anytime soon. He had to _behave_. It was really fucking boring most of the time though.

At least talking to his doctor and group were only an hour of his day each, and he could spend most of the rest of that time with Jason or Bruce or whoever else showed up. Often they didn't talk about much — Bruce tended to do work on his tablet and the others would play on their phones while Dick read or sometimes just stared at the wall, thinking. Jason, predictably, brought books, and Dick nearly always ended up falling asleep since he still wasn't wired to sleep nights and rarely got more than two or three hours of sleep. 

Dick preferred everybody doing their own thing, honestly. It was nice to have company without the expectations that came with _talking_. All there really was to talk about was his therapy or things he was missing out on in the outside world, and Dick hated how serious and depressing those conversations got. It was just another way he felt like he was dragging all of them down.

Speaking of Bruce and everybody else, though, Dick was noticing more than ever how much easier it was to be tactile with them compared to Jason. He often held Jason's hand, and occasionally sat close enough to feel his body heat without touching, but with Bruce and the others, he had no problem with long hugs and cuddles on the couch. It wasn't really a conscious thing, he did _want_ to be near Jason, it was just that a big part of him still often cringed away from bodily contact with him. It made him feel kind of guilty sometimes, but even with Bruce and the others there were still days where he couldn't stand to be touched, so it wasn't _all_ Jason.

Right now, Dick was having a rough day. Not enough that he wasn't curled up against Bruce, but enough that he couldn't keep his dark thoughts from spilling out.

"What am I even doing here?" Dick mumbled into Bruce's side, running his fingers over the inside of his arm, counting the bumps over and over and over. 

Bruce squeezed the arm he had around Dick's shoulders and looked up from his tablet. "What do you mean?"

"I just…" Dick didn't look up at him, staring down at his arm as his fingers moved over it. "This is all so stupid. It feels stupid. Why am I even this fucked up over what happened? It was basically nothing; he literally was just rubbing up against me. Why is it such a big deal? Why do I care so fucking much? It's not like he actually r—" he choked on the word. "Did _that_ ," he said instead.

His hand sped faster over his arm, betraying his anxiety.

"Dick, look at me." 

Dick hesitantly looked up and met Bruce's somber, serious eyes. 

"What happened was horrible. _Horrible_. It didn't need to be worse for you to be messed up over it. Just because it could have been worse doesn't mean it wasn't already bad enough — everything could _always_ be worse. It wasn't nothing, and it's not stupid to be upset over. I promise you, going through what you had to would mess _anyone_ up."

"But—" Dick started, but Bruce held up a hand.

"Trauma isn't measured by what exactly happened anyway, it's measured by the _effect_ whatever happened has on a person. One thing could traumatise one person and the same exact thing could not do so to someone else, and it would not take away the fact that it was traumatising to the first person. You have every right to be as messed up over this as you are, and anybody who tells you otherwise is _wrong_. Including yourself."

"I...thanks," Dick said weakly.

"You don't believe me."

"No. What you're saying...I mean, logically it makes sense, but…" Dick trailed off, and ducked his back down against Bruce's side. "But it doesn't make it _feel_ true," he finally said.

"Well then you need to repeat it to yourself until it does. I'll repeat it as many times as you need."

"Thanks Bruce," he said quietly.

"Of course."

Bruce pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"You know," Bruce said quietly, and took a deep breath. "You know…"

Dick could tell that he was physically stopping himself from performing any nervous tics, and that in itself was a dead giveaway of how apprehensive he was.

"I don't really talk about it, but the way Damian was conceived was not...of my own volition," Bruce finally got out. "And I understand feeling like it wouldn't have happened if you were just on alert the way you should have been, or if you'd just _been better_ , or...any number of things. And it's hard to feel like I have a right to be upset, because I'm... _me_ , I shouldn't be able to be duped by having something slipped into my drink." Bruce's words turned slightly bitter, before he continued. 

"But there is nothing good down that road. Thinking of _'what if'_ s, and _'maybe it was my fault'_ s, and _'was it really even that bad'_ s — that doesn't get you anywhere but feeling even more like crap. You can't buy into those thoughts, you just have to believe that you did the best you could, and that any way you feel about it is valid."

Dick threw his arm across Bruce's chest and over his shoulder, loosely hugging him with one arm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "And thank you. For telling me."

Bruce patted his shoulder. "Anything for you, chum. Anything." 

He picked his tablet back up and turned his attention back to his email.

◇◇◇

Several days later, Dick found himself curled up in a chair at the end of the hall that had the TV in it, arms wrapped around his legs, staring blankly at the wall adjacent rather than at the screen.

"Hi Richard, you doing okay?" one of the nurses asked, after checking off Dick's name on his clipboard.

Dick _wasn't_ doing very okay. They'd just had a group session (finally a _new_ one that he hadn't sat through before) all about support networks, and it had Dick brooding.

It wasn't a topic Dick had expected to be difficult or sensitive, but then the discussion leader had started talking about communication and trust and what makes for good interpersonal relationships. 

That was when Dick realized.

If someone had asked him a few months ago, before everything in his life went to shit, he wouldn't have even had to think about it. He and Jason were completely open and honest with each other, and they trusted each other with their lives — that was a big part of what made their relationship work so well. Love on its own couldn't keep a relationship going, they both knew that. 

So he had been unpleasantly surprised, when he set about filling out the stupid worksheet on the strengths of his various relationships, to realize that he and Jason no longer _had_ what had once made their relationship so unshakeable.

And it was his fault.

He _knew_ it was on him for pushing Jason away and refusing to let him in, and for lying to him about being ready and hurting him. He knew that. But the fact still stood that there was no winning with attempting to open up to him, so he was still stuck in the same conundrum as before.

Was there no way to fix their relationship? Did giving up on Jason understanding mean giving up on Jason entirely? He didn't want to do that — he _really_ didn't want to do that — Jason was his rock and he was _not_ at a place where he could handle being unmoored right now. 

That was a selfish thought, though. What about what was good for _Jason?_ Maybe _he_ shouldn't have to be tied to a sinking ship. Was it even fair to keep Jason trapped in this relationship? And did Dick really even have a choice about it?

Dick looked up at the nurse and saw that it was Nick. He seemed nice enough, although Dick hadn't really spoken to him much before.

"Can I talk to you about something?" he finally asked.

"Sure, of course!" Nick said. "Can you just give me two minutes so I can finish checking in on everybody?"

Right, he was doing fifteen minute checks.

Dick nodded.

"I'll be right back."

True to his word, it didn't take long for him to come back and settle himself on the chair next to Dick's.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Just...group got me thinking about some stuff," Dick mumbled.

"The group was on relationships, right?"

Dick nodded. "It...made me realize that...I don't think my relationships are the same as I thought they were. Stuff has changed over the last few months, and I don't think I really realized what that meant until now."

"Okay. What do you mean by that? Could you give me an example? It can be hypothetical if you want, it doesn't have to be real."

And that was all it took for Dick to start spilling his guts about the whole Jason situation. He knew he was rambling and probably not making much sense, but he wasn't able to stop until he'd spilled out every last dark thought about it.

"Maybe you're getting ahead of yourself," Nick finally said. "You're leading yourself down this path and talking yourself into thinking you need to break up with him as if it's all only up to you. Don't you think maybe he deserves to be able to make that decision for himself? Of whether he wants to try and understand, and whether he wants to stay with you? Is it really fair for you to make the decision for both of you without letting him have any say?"

"I...maybe not," Dick allowed. "But...he's _Jason_ , he isn't great at not putting his everything into something that only hurts him until something gives. He gravitates toward being self destructive."

"And you don't think maybe _you're_ being a little self destructive? Trying to sabotage your relationship?"

Dick's lips thinned. That wasn't what he wanted to hear, but Nick...maybe had a point.

"And why is it you're so certain he doesn't _already_ understand?" Nick continued.

Dick paused, thrown. "What?"

"Well you've said you're afraid of him trying and being unable to understand, and that you're also afraid of making him understand, but both of those assume he hasn't _already_ tried to understand on his own. Maybe he's picked up on more than you think. Are you entirely certain he doesn't have some points of reference with things he's gone through himself? Nobody is completely without struggles, and maybe he can relate more than you think."

Dick was quiet for a minute. 

"Shit," he finally said. "He...I don't know why I didn't think of that. There are...a few things that might be similar in some ways."

Jason _had_ experienced betrayal — his own mother had sold him out to be murdered, and he'd thought Bruce hadn't cared when he died and that he'd been replaced with Tim.

He'd been brutally murdered by the Joker, and if that wasn't complete powerlessness and victimhood, then Dick didn't know what was.

He'd been used by Talia in her mind games and petty vendetta against Bruce.

He'd had his self control and emotions hijacked by the Lazarus Pit.

Maybe...maybe Jason _did_ already understand. Maybe Dick had been looking at everything all wrong.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to let Jason in.

It would be a lot harder than just giving up. And it was a scary prospect, after having closed him out so entirely for so long, and it meant having to _explain_ to Jason _why_ he'd shut him out and having to talk about it. But it was something he _had_ to do if he wanted to rebuild trust and communication in their relationship, and it was on _him_ to do that. Jason had tried, still continued to try, and Dick had been the one to shut him out. 

Perhaps it was time to meet him halfway.

◇◇◇

"You know I love you, right?" Dick asked the next day. It was the first thing he said to Jason after quizzing him on his identity.

Jason quirked an eyebrow. "I know. I love you too, sweetie pie," he said, waiting for an explanation for Dick's desperate-sounding outburst.

"I know it hasn't seemed like it lately, but you have to know I'd do almost anything for you."

"What is this about?" Jason asked slowly. "You don't _have_ to do anything, okay? Especially not anything that's gonna make you uncomfortable. I know you love me sweetheart, you don't have anything to prove."

"That's not true. I know I've been hurting you, and I was talking with one of the nurses yesterday... I know it's way past time, but I'm ready to talk."

"You want to talk?" Jason looked cautiously hopeful. "Okay, let's talk, what do you want to talk about?"

"I...should probably start with explaining _why_ I was pushing you away. It was unintentional at first, but then it kind of...spiralled."

Dick did his best to explain his reasoning, trying not to look at Jason's kicked-puppy expression as he talked.

"Oh sweetheart," Jason said softly, once he finished explaining, "you're not a burden. I could never be better off without you — how could you think I'd ever feel trapped by you? I _choose_ to be with you every day we're together, and I will continue to happily choose you over and over again every single day for the rest of our lives. I love you way too much to just walk away."

Dick blinked rapidly and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He'd known Jason loved him, but that wasn't just _love_ , that was… He didn't have a word for what that was. Unconditional love to the highest degree he knew of, perhaps. It was utter devotion, commitment, _forever_.

"I love you," he got out. "I don't even know how to tell you how much, but I do."

Jason smiled, eyes unbearably soft. "I know sweetheart. I know you do."

"And I get it now, I get that you already understand. I wasn't thinking of everything you've been through, but once I did, I realized you can relate. Probably better than most people. After everything with your birth mother and the Joker, and then Talia, and the Pit...how could you not?"

"Of course I understand. As well as anybody who hasn't been in the exact same situation can, anyway."

Dick took a deep breath and ran his hand over his forearm. This was always the hardest part. "And. And I'm sorry. Sorry for not trusting you to make your own decisions, and for hurting you. I shouldn't have shut you out, and I definitely shouldn't have lied to you."

"I forgive you." He reached toward Dick's hand. "This okay?" Dick nodded and let his hand fall from his arm as Jason took the other hand, intertwining their fingers and pressing a kiss to the back of Dick's hand. "I'll always forgive you. And you're talking to me right now, that's a big step in the right direction."

Dick didn't know what he'd done in life to deserve Jason, but he was so, so thankful for whatever it was.

Jason stretched, seemingly oblivious to his thoughts, and settled back into the couch with a yawn and a squeeze of Dick's hand. Dick blinked and shook his head when he thought he caught sight of— no, that couldn't be right. Surely? 

"Are you...wearing fishnets under your jeans?"

"What? Oh yeah…" Jason looked around and lowered his voice. "I was undercover in a drag club last night. Well, this morning, more like. Didn't have time to do more than slap on some jeans and wash off the makeup before I came here."

Well goddamn. Why did Dick have to be in the stupid fucking hospital and miss out on these things?

"Oh I would've _killed_ to see that, _please_ tell me you took pictures?"

Jason grinned. "What kind of a cruel bastard do you think I am? Of _course_ I took pictures. I looked hot as hell if I do say so myself," he said, pulling out his phone. "Also, I needed to immortalize that fucking smoky eye, because it took me like an hour to do — makeup shit is _hard_."

He turned his phone screen toward Dick, and Dick's breath caught. 

"Oh _Jay_ ," he breathed. "Holy shit."

"You like it?" 

Dick stared at the picture, at Jason in deep burgundy lipstick, blowing a kiss into the full length mirror in their bedroom. He had on the same combat boots and tight black t-shirt that he was wearing right now — a shirt that showed off his chest and biceps beautifully — and he of course had the fishnets on and the aforementioned smoky eye. But then there was the thing that _really_ made the look: a tight black miniskirt that drew Dick's eyes straight to his muscular thighs. 

Dick thought he may be having heart palpitations. _Christ_ his boyfriend was hot.

"If you had a day job, I'd say quit it and become a full time performer," he finally said, wrenching his eyes away from the photo and back to Jason's face.

Jason flushed slightly. "Really?"

"Oh fuck yeah, _god_ you look amazing. Where did you find all that?"

"Already had the shirt and boots, stole the fishnets and skirt from B's disguise locker — was surprised there were any that fit, he must've gotten them for himself, but they're mine now. Picked up some cheap makeup at the corner store and that was that. Getting on the makeup was the only hard part with it all; thank the universe for YouTube tutorials."

"I want a coming home present when I get out of here, and I want it to be _that_. I need to see that in person."

Jason gave a slow grin and squeezed his hand again. "Oh don't you worry honey, like I said, I'm keepin' 'em; you'll get to see me all prettied up for you."

Dick leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes. "You're the best boyfriend ever, you know that?"

"I try, sweetheart."

 _This_. This was what Dick had been missing: their easy rapport, the way their relationship used to just _flow_ before the distance grew between them. God, it was so good to have it back again.

◇◇◇

"I had the strangest interaction with Black Mask last night," Jason said one morning, once he'd settled onto the couch and looked around to make sure nobody was nearby.

"Oh yeah?" Dick asked, curling up in his corner of the couch and laying his head against the sofa back. He held out his hand and Jason linked their fingers together.

"Yeah, odd as it seems for someone who threatens to have you tortured so often, he sounded...worried about you? I mean, he was trying not to, but he was a little..." He imitated Black Mask's voice, "'Not that I care, of course, but your little blue boy hasn't been spotted out in quite some time…?'"

"Huh," Dick said, looking bemused.

"I guess your charm truly knows no bounds."

"You sure he's not like...planning something in Blüdhaven?"

Jason shrugged. "Didn't seem like it, but I'll be on the lookout."

"...Huh," Dick repeated. "What'd you tell him?"

"I just said you were doing fine and not to worry about it, and he felt the need to impress upon me that he was very much not _worried_."

Dick let out an incredulous laugh. "Who knew, Black Mask possibly has a heart after all."

They fell to silence, and eventually Dick's eyes started to fall shut. He really needed a nap with the paltry three hours of sleep he was running on.

"I think I might go to therapy," Jason said suddenly, just before Dick drifted off.

Dick picked his head up and looked at him.

"Tim won't stop checking up on me and it's fucking annoying," Jason continued, looking down and picking at a thread on his jeans. "But also he keeps trying to get me to go talk to Dinah about everything, keeps begging me to just give it a chance. And...I dunno, maybe he has a point?"

"I think that's a great idea," Dick said quietly, squeezing his hand. "It would be good to have someone to talk to who's not involved in all of this."

"Yeah," Jason looked over at him. "Yeah. I don't mean this in a bad way, but this has all been really fucking hard. And I know it's probably a million times worse for you, but I can feel myself starting to crack and I don't know what else to do about it." He squeezed Dick's hand back. "I had hoped that since we finally fixed our communication issues that that would help, and it's certainly been a huge relief — I can't even tell you how much — but it didn't take off the pressure the way I thought it would."

"I'm sorry. It's not a competition, though; you've got plenty of reasons to be stressed and upset right now. These past few weeks — hell, these past couple _months_ — have been a lot for you as well, and it's easy for me to forget that because I get bogged down in my own shit, but you've been hurting a lot too."

"Thanks Dickie."

Dick brought their hands up to press a kiss to the back of Jason's. "Of course. I know a lot of it's my fault and I wish I could fix it."

"You weren't _trying_ to hurt me, it's not really on you."

Dick grimaced. "Still."

"The best thing you can do for me is work on yourself and get feeling better," Jason said, his eyes wide and earnest.

"I'm working on it. You taking care of _your_ self?"

Jason stroked his thumb over the side of Dick's hand, and paused before answering.

"I'm...doing alright. Damian is over a lot — he's really missing you, and to be honest I think that's what's making me keep it together as much as I am. Gotta cook and stay in routine for him, can't just spiral and neglect my health and nighttime activities stressing about you — and before you apologize, that's not your fault, so don't. I just. Stress a lot."

Dick swallowed back the impulse to apologize anyway, and studied his face. "You sleeping?" He leaned forward and ran the thumb of his free hand over the dark circle under Jason's right eye. "You're looking dead on your feet. Maybe you should skip coming here tomorrow and get some extra sleep."

"No, no, I still wanna come — it won't make a difference if I stay in anyway, I'm just sleeping super shittily without you." He laid his free hand over Dick's hand on his cheek. "I miss you _so_ bad sweetheart, and it's hard to sleep in an empty bed knowing you're so far away. Even if I couldn't touch you, just knowing you were right there was such a relief, even if I didn't realize until it was gone."

"Yeah, I get that, you already know I've been sleeping like shit too. Part of why I keep falling asleep on you is 'cause I know you're right here and watching over me and I can finally relax."

Jason turned his head and pressed a kiss to Dick's palm.

"Glad to help, sweetie pie. Speaking of, you should get some sleep.

"Yeah." Dick reluctantly dropped his hand from Jason's face. "Just...don't forget about yourself, okay? I'm gonna be fine, I've got a billion people in here watching out for me, and stressing isn't gonna do anything but make you feel worse anyway."

"Okay, sweetheart," Jason said softly, squeezing their linked hands.

Dick settled back into the corner of the sofa and laid his cheek on the back of it, closing his eyes.

"Sleep tight," he heard as he drifted off.

◇◇◇

Jason sat down uncomfortably on the couch in the small room a few days later. Dick's psychiatrist had asked to speak to him almost as soon as he'd arrived. There were three other people in the room, who the doctor introduced as two med students and Dick's social worker.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" he asked, running his hands over his knees nervously. This felt a whole lot like getting called to the principal's office and he didn't know why — it wasn't even _about_ him. Or, at least, he _thought_ not.

"We just wanted to touch base, and talk with you about Richard's touch aversion. You're his partner, right?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"It's just that we've noticed he's still having a lot of trouble with touch, especially with you, as compared to his other visitors."

Jason shrugged. "I know."

This was apparently not the answer the doctor wanted, and he looked frustrated. "His touch aversion, particularly in a romantic context is still very strong, and he has to work on getting past that. He may need you to give him a push to start to get over it."

Jason's voice turned dangerous, and he leaned forward on the couch. "He doesn't _have_ to do anything. If he _decides_ he wants to try and get over his touch aversion, I'll work with him, but you can get fucked if you think I'm gonna _'give him a push'_ ," he held up air quotes. "Or that I'm gonna stand by and let anyone _else_ do that either. It's _his_ choice, and his choice _alone_ , and if he decides he doesn't want so much as a goddamned high five from anyone ever again, then you better believe that's the way it's gonna be."

"I understand your concern Mr. Peters, but we have to think of it in terms of what kind of quality of life our patients are going to have if we don't push them out of their comfort zones sometimes," the doctor said patiently. "He—"

"Is an adult who's perfectly capable of weighing that for himself," Jason cut him off. "He may not be in a great place right now, but he ain't stupid, and it's completely reasonable for him to be having this issue with everything he's been through. If he don't wanna let go of whatever feeling of security he can get, I ain't making him."

"I'm not saying it isn't reasonable — it's very common in situations like this — it's still something he needs to work to overcome, though."

Jason clenched his jaw. It was like the guy was barely listening to him. He wanted to yell so badly, but he really didn't want to be kicked out and not allowed to see Dick. It wouldn't be fair to him — he had to keep reminding himself that and not do anything rash.

There was just no _reason_ that Dick _had_ to 'get over' this if he didn't want to, and the doctor seemed to just be ignoring that part of the conversation, treating it like a given.

"You already know what I think," he finally grated out. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

The doctor sighed. "Yes, that's all."

"Great," he stood and let himself out of the room, not bothering to look back as he strode down the hall toward the couches where he'd left Dick.

"You'd forgive me if I got banned for fighting a doctor, right?" he muttered, as he flopped down next to Dick.

Dick's mouth quirked up at the corner. "Didn't go great, huh?"

Jason sighed and crossed his arms. "It went _fine_ , they're just on some bullshit. I don't like that fucking doctor either, it's like talking to an overly placid brick wall."

"You're telling me," Dick said. "I told you he's not a great listener. He technically hears what you're saying but he doesn't really _listen_ , and he doesn't bother to remember things for shit. Or, you know, look at his notes."

"And they won't let you switch doctors?"

"Nope," Dick popped the p in the word. "That would be too easy."

"Ugh." Jason dropped his head back to the back of the couch. "You want me to sneak a knife in tomorrow? Give him a nice little threat?"

Dick snorted, and caught Jason's hand, intertwining their fingers. "No, I'm pretty sure you'd get banned and I'd miss you." He kissed the back of Jason's hand and then curled up against his side.

Jason went very still, like one might with a skittish cat that's suddenly decided to settle down on one's lap.

"I'm not gonna implode if you move, you know."

"I know," Jason said, although he wasn't entirely sure he _did_ know.

He attempted to relax his body, and Dick gave a big yawn.

"My shitty, empty bed still isn't doing me any favors — you don't mind if I sleep on you?"

Jason didn't know why he still bothered to ask. "Go ahead, sunshine." He kissed the top of his head, and picked his battered copy of Wuthering Heights back up from where he'd left it on the couch.

"This good?" he murmured, leaning his cheek against the top of Dick's head.

"Mhm." He already sounded half asleep.

Jason happily settled in for a couple hours of mostly uninterrupted reading. Sometimes someone having a conversation on the phone nearby got a bit loud, but mainly there wasn't much to complain about.

After about two hours, he felt Dick shift and there was a small, hiccupping sob. Dick had slid down while he was asleep until he was curled up tightly with his head pillowed on Jason's thigh.

Jason wished he could be more surprised by the tears, but he was well used to Dick waking up crying, even from naps.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Jason asked quietly, and Dick nodded.

He turned his face further into his leg, and Jason could feel the tears starting to leak through his jeans.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, really," Dick mumbled, muffled by Jason's thigh. His hand was clutching Jason's in a death grip.

Jason put his book down. "'S it okay if I touch your hair?"

Dick nodded again. "Please."

He ran his fingers through Dick's hair until his breathing slowed and the crying stopped.

"'M so fucking sick of crying," Dick mumbled, before finally turning his head and wiping his face with his free hand.

"I know, sweetheart," Jason said, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I've got a fucking headache now. Did I miss lunch?"

"No, you were only out about two hours."

"Okay good. They keep getting on me for missing meals."

"Not your fault they have breakfast at the fucking asscrack of dawn." Jason absently twirled one of Dick's curls around his finger.

Dick huffed out a laugh. "Exactly."

He groaned and pushed himself up to sitting, wiping at his face again. "God, I feel like shit."

"What?" Jason sounded mock-scandalised. "You're telling me you got a whole two hours of sleep and you're not ready a raring to go?"

Dick laughed, harder than the joke really deserved, but it made Jason smile.

"I love you," Dick sighed.

"I love you too." Jason dropped another kiss on his head and squeezed his hand.

Dick looked over to him. "Would it be a really horrible idea to try to kiss you right now?"

Jason inhaled sharply. "Well I guess that depends on why you want to, sweetie pie." The conversation with the doctor flashed in his mind. "If it's because your doctors are pushing you to be more tactile, I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's not," Dick said, leaning forward with wide, earnest eyes. "I miss kissing you, I really do, and I think maybe I'm at a place where I won't freak out or shut down if I do."

"Maybe?" Jason questioned.

"Yes. Maybe. I don't really know until I do it, do I?"

Jason paused for a few moments. "Okay," he said finally. "Okay. If you're sure."

"Okay I can kiss you?"

Jason nodded. "Yeah."

He held still, and let Dick come to him. Dick kissed him once chastely and pulled back for a moment, "Wait, it's really you, right?"

"Yeah honey," he reassured. "I did a book report for Tim on Macbeth once just for the fun of it. Didn't even make him pay me back or anything. Plus I felt bad for him because he never fucking sleeps and has a full time job _and_ college _and_ nighttime activities, and that just can't be good for a person."

Dick's stomach dropped at the mention of Shakespeare.

**_Methinks the lady doth protest too much…_ **

He shook his head slightly to clear it, and his nails bit into his palm as he clenched his fist. _It wasn't happening right now_. This was the _real_ Jason, the _actual_ Shakespeare nerd. Dick had looked it up later, and the line was misquoted anyway — the _real_ Jason would never have done that. Wouldn't have weaponized Shakespeare like that in the first place. Wouldn't have cornered Dick like that.

Dick forced on a grin. "Aww. Yeah, and you like to pretend you're not stupidly nice." He pecked him on the lips again, ignoring the churning in his stomach, and breathed deeply. Gun oil and leather. Familiar. Safe. _Jay_. "Fucking nerd," he said fondly. "Who does Shakespeare for _fun?_ "

" _Me_ ," Jason said indignantly.

 _Exactly_. The _real_ Jason.

Dick grinned wider and leaned back in, grabbing his chin and kissing him until Jason kissed him back.

"You okay?" Jason asked, as soon as he pulled back.

"...Yeah," Dick said. His breath was coming slightly too fast. "Yeah I'm okay. Freaking out a little, but okay, I think."

Jason frowned, making a sympathetic noise.

"Really, it's fine." Dick took a slow, deep breath, both to steady himself and to breathe in Jason's comforting scent again. "It's...not great, but it's manageable."

"Okay," Jason said, and squeezed his hand again.

Dick smiled at him. It was a step. Progress was progress.

◇◇◇

The next day, Dick was more standoffish than usual, not even holding Jason's hand. Normally, Jason would just assume it was a bad day, but he couldn't help but wonder if this time it had something to do with them having kissed the day before.

Before he could ask, though, Dick answered for him.

"Sorry, bad day today. It's not because we kissed yesterday, I don't think. I just…had a particularly awful nightmare this morning, and my skin's been crawling ever since."

"Ah," Jason said. "Anything I can do?"

Dick shrugged. "Not really. Just distraction. I'm not gonna nap today — afraid it'll get worse."

"Alright. You wanna hear about one of the cold case shows I saw on tv last night? I have a suspicion about it, but I'm sure it could use a real detective."

Dick's eyes gleamed. " _Yes_. Tell me the facts."

◇◇◇

"I wanna try kissing you again," Dick said, not long after Jason had showed up the next day.

Jason looked over at him in surprise. "You sure?" He'd already spent several minutes quizzing Jason on his identity, but Jason had just assumed he was feeling paranoid today.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's why I said it."

"Okay…"

"Come here," Dick cut him off from whatever else he was about to say, pulling him forward with a hand on the back of his head.

Dick's stomach dropped like he was on a roller coaster, but he did his best to ignore it. The feeling would pass.

"I missed this," he sighed, between slow, careful kisses. "Missed you." He traced a hand over Jason's rough, stubbly cheek.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and kissed back carefully.

"Still good, angel?"

"Mhm." Dick sat back — he still felt a bit nauseous and dizzy, but it was manageable.

This was fine, he could do this. He could _do this_.

He leaned back in to give Jason another quick peck, and looked around for a second as an idea occurred to him. Who was going to stop him? Nobody. He stood for a moment, and curled up in Jason's lap, sitting sideways with his knees up and his feet on the couch beside Jason's thigh. Jason's arms automatically came up to hold him around his waist and over his shins, and Dick counted it as a major victory when that didn't seem to worsen his queasiness.

He circled his arms loosely around the back of Jason's neck and rested his head on his shoulder, shutting his eyes and breathing him in. 

"You going to sleep?" Jason asked.

"Yeah." He brushed a featherlight kiss against the side of Jason's neck and settled in to sleep. Breathe deep. The nausea will pass.

Jason leaned over to fish out his book with minimal jostling — and fuck anybody who shit-talked cargo pants, they were just jealous they couldn't carry their books with them.

He was shocked when, about forty five minutes later, he felt a kiss on his neck again.

"G'morning," Dick mumbled against his skin — no tears anywhere in sight.

"Good morning, sweet pea." Jason really didn't want to jinx it by pointing it out, but, as far as he knew, this was the first time since That Night that Dick had woken up without crying.

Dick smiled sleepily at him. "I love your reading face," he said, bringing a hand up to smooth his thumb over the crease between Jason's eyebrows.

Jason laughed. "Yeah? What's my reading face?"

Dick imitated it, scrunching his eyebrows together and putting on a slight frown. "Like that, concentrating real hard."

"I see."

Dick opened his mouth, and then paused as something flickered behind his eyes. "Can you...tell me something? Something only you know?" he said, in an almost-whisper.

"Of course," Jason said, voice low enough that nobody else who might wander over would be able to overhear. "You're the only person who hasn't ever been weird about my autopsy scars. I told you that on our third date, and you got super defensive for me, saying my standards were too low if that — the _bare minimum_ , as you called it — was being held up as the ideal trait in a partner."

"And I'm still right," Dick said, catching him by surprise with another kiss on the lips. "Your scars are a part of you, and you're fucking breathtaking."

Easier all the time — the kiss barely made his stomach flip.

Jason kissed him back, a small smile playing around his mouth. "Thanks, angel."

"Yeah, the faggots are being gross."

Both of them looked over at the man sitting at the phone a couple meters away, who was staring right at them.

"You wanna say that a little louder?" Jason snapped, spoiling for a fight. Dick was finally, _finally_ comfortable kissing him again, and _this_ was what they got for it? Nevermind what a difficult and monumental thing this was for him — no, he just got called gross and a faggot.

"Yeah. You faggots are being gross," the man said challengingly, as if Jason couldn't snap him like a fucking twig.

"Jay...don't." Dick lowered his voice to speak in his ear. "I don't know what the rules are, but if you threaten a patient they might kick you out permanently, and I really, really don't want that."

"Don't what? What is that fucking pansy gonna do to me?" the man asked, clearly spoiling for a fight as much as Jason was. Although, there was no way he _seriously_ thought he could win that — no, his aim was probably to get Jason banned from the hospital.

Jason closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. "So goddamn lucky I love my boyfriend and don't want to get kicked out of this stupid fucking place," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" the man asked. "You got something to say?"

Jason opened his eyes and shot him a tight, passive-aggressive smile. "Nothing, _sir_ ," he said, heavy with sarcasm.

"Pussy," the man goaded. "Nothing to say to my face?"

"Yes," Jason said. "Exactly. Not a thing."

He didn't seem to know how to react to that, and backed down — although he _did_ keep saying unsubtle rude things loudly into the phone.

"Look at you, Mr. Self Control," Dick said, as Jason continued to ignore him.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'm not _three_ , you don't have to be patronizing."

Dick shrugged. "Jason of five years ago probably would have dismembered him with his bare hands. I can be a little proud you've contained yourself to passive aggression."

"I've mellowed in my old age," Jason said drolly. 

"You _have_ ," Dick insisted.

"Maybe it's the magic of love," he retorted sarcastically. "But no, seriously, Jason of five years ago was still addled by the Pit. And anyway, he wouldn't have dismembered him with his bare hands, he would have already snuck in a gun and ended the conversation before it began."

"That means you thought about it, and I'm gonna continue to be thrilled you've kept it to being passive aggressive."

Jason gave a sharp grin. "You know me, sugar. Five years ago or today, I've always got other plans brewing in my mind. Just in case."

Dick laughed.

"But," he added, "Jason of five years ago wouldn't be sitting here kissing you, so I think I prefer keeping it to a minimum if that's the tradeoff."

"I prefer it too." Dick side-eyed asshole at the phone, and leaned in to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may be wondering what the point of Jay's talk with the doctor is if Dick wants to get over his touch aversion anyway and it's not really an issue. It's because, once again, this fic is free therapy for me, and hopefully for some of you in similar situations who need to hear some of the same things. I'm one of the haphephobic people who _doesn't_ have any interest whatsoever in 'overcoming' it, and I don't even see it as an issue, I would even go so far as to say I like it, because I see it as something that keeps me safe. So mostly I'm just really tired of the perception that it's something that HAS to be overcome, and I needed Jay to be on my side. 
> 
> Dick wants to overcome it, because that's what feels right for him; he's always been a very tactile person and that's how he expresses love. Touch is important to him. But everybody is different, and I didn't want to send the message that just because I am having Dick fight his way through his anxiety around touch means that I think that the doctor is right and that everybody has to do that in order to 'get better'. They very much do not.


	17. Fifteen

Dick leaned against the wall, waiting in the glacially slow dinner line the next night. He hated how tiny the little cafeteria room was. The only time he missed being on status was at lunch and dinner, when he had to come into this cramped, crowded room just to wait for twenty minutes with a severely reduced personal space bubble around him. It usually didn't feel like there were a whole lot of patients on the ward, until it was mealtime and they were all crammed into the one small room.

At least as soon as he got his food, he could book it out of there and eat it at one of the little tables in the hallway instead of one of the two long ones in the middle of the cafeteria room. Damn, he wished Bruce hadn’t left when they’d called mealtime — it would’ve been nice not to eat alone.

He slid a bit further down the wall, cringing away from the body heat he could feel coming from the person right behind him. Unfortunately, they caught right back up. Dick wondered if there was any hope he could get Bruce to push for a mandatory class in schools on personal space and taking a fucking hint, so at least the kids in Gotham wouldn’t be like this asshole.

The person behind him shifted closer, and Dick glanced back. Of course.

Of course he got stuck in front of the fucking shitbag of the mental hospital, the very same homophobic douchebag who had felt the need to make his views abundantly clear to Dick and Jason yesterday. Life sure liked punishing him.

And of course the guy caught his eye, and even when Dick quickly looked away again, he took that as an invitation to start a conversation. Maybe it would be worth it to go back on status just for the fucking meals.

“Your boyfriend know about your other man?” he asked snidely.

Dick ignored him, still facing away, but he wasn’t to be deterred.

“Huh, Richie? Can’t wait to see how that pans out; bet they’ll visit at the same time at some point.”

Dick turned exasperatedly. “ _Who_ are you even talking about? I know you know who my boyfriend is, because you called us faggots yesterday. Sorry to disappoint, but I only have the one.”

“What about the guy who was just here? I don’t buy you’re just friends, and I doubt your _boyfriend_ would either,” he taunted, still too quietly to be overheard by anyone else.

Dick flinched back. “That’s my _dad_ , you fucking creep.” 

“Didn’t look like it, the way you were all over him. Or are _your type_ just into that too?”

“Don’t fucking talk to me. Leave me alone.” Dick faced back toward the front of the line, which hadn’t moved so much as an inch. He huddled further against the wall and tried to scoot up a tiny bit more without getting too close to the person in front of him, but the man (Tom, Dick thought his name was) was still right there behind him.

“Both pretty big guys. You got a type?” Maybe-named-Tom needled over his shoulder.

“Leave me _alone_.”

“Bet you do. Never met a fag who _wasn't_ a slut like that.” Dick’s vision started to go black and fuzzy around the edges, and he could distantly feel that he was breathing too fast, but possibly-Tom just kept talking. “Classic faggot with daddy issues, all over anyone who comes to visit your crazy ass in here. Bet you like ‘em big and strong so they can do whatever they want and you can’t stop 'em — that’s the fucked up shit people like you are into, right?”

Dick instinctively turned, flattening himself against the wall as memories of Jason on the rooftop pushed their way unbidden into his mind — no, _not_ Jason, he reminded himself, just that fucked up man who’d made himself _look_ like Jason. It wasn’t him, it _wasn’t him_.

His breaths were definitely coming too fast now, and he was choking painfully with every inhale. He swore he could feel hands sliding down his back, grabbing his ass. 

Dick tried to back up, but there was nowhere else to go, he was already pressed against the wall. He could feel the cold of the painted cinder blocks against his backside, and he tried to convince himself that that meant there couldn't be hands there.

The man took another small step closer, saying, “Isn’t that right, Richie?” but Dick barely heard him. He acted on instinct, barely realizing what he was doing as he lashed out with his leg, sweeping the man’s feet from under him, and vaulted over the trash bins between him and the door, pushing through the small crowd in the doorway, and bolting down the hallway.

He didn’t recall getting into his room, but he must’ve closed the door because it was dark, and he was huddled on the floor in front of his toilet, retching into the bowl. And fuck, his eyes and throat hurt, and he knew he was probably crying too, but he couldn’t stop any of it. Everything felt so far out of his grasp, and he just couldn’t stop thinking of Jason on the rooftop, Jason, Jason, **_not_** _actually Jason_ , touching, touching, he wasn’t going to _stop_. **_Nothing was going to make him stop_**.

The door to his room opened, letting in a slice of light and a shadow and voices, and Dick scrambled back against the wall under the sink. But they just kept coming forward and saying, _saying_ , but he couldn’t tell what they were saying or who they were — he just knew he didn’t _want_ it, didn’t trust it, didn’t trust _anything_ , and too close, _too closetooclose_ ** _tooclose_** _!_

“Get away! Get away, get away!” He knew he was screaming, but he didn’t feel like he was actually having anything to do with what was coming out of his mouth.

“Get away from me!” Dick tried to scoot further back, but he was already backed all the way into the corner, and the shadows just kept coming closer. The lights flicked on, blindingly bright, and there were _so many_ people. He kicked out at them. “Get away! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

He could feel his voice cracking and the sobs taking over, and it _hurt_ , but he couldn’t _stop_ screaming at them.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t— _please_. Get away!”

A blurry figure crouched and leaned forward, and he felt himself lose a small remaining bit of control he hadn’t even known he had. He kicked out violently and wildly with both feet, screaming impossibly louder. “DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! I WILL _KILL_ YOU! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU TOUCH ME! GET **_AWAY_** _!_ ”

The figure shifted back a foot or so, still crouching, and held its hands up in surrender, and the other figures moved back further toward his door. The crouched one said something else, but it was still incomprehensible mumbling.

"Just— just," Dick gasped for air as he continued to sob, barely able to still get any words out. "Just don't tou- _touch_ me," he repeated, but it was quieter now. He clenched his hands around his legs, where he'd apparently curled back in on himself without realizing.

He cried himself out, chin resting on his knees, too afraid to put his head down all the way when someone else was there and potentially able to act at a moment's notice without him knowing.

"Richard?" the nurse prompted softly, once his crying had finally eased from hysterical sobbing to silent tears, and Dick tried to blink the tears out of his eyes enough to see. She was still a bit out of focus, but he could see that it was Christine, which he was glad for. She'd been nice in the past.

It seemed that the other staff had left at some point, which was also good. More people was always worse.

"Sleep," he managed to force out after a few long moments. He didn't think he could do a full sentence — he didn't even think he could get up right now — he just wanted to go to sleep.

"Can you eat something first? You missed breakfast, and now you've missed dinner; I think you should eat something."

He shook his head.

"Are you sure? I can get someone to bring you something small," she offered.

He shook his head again. "Alone."

"I'm sorry, Richard, but I can't leave. You hurt another patient, that means you have to be back on status."

She didn't say it meanly, or accusatorily, but Dick still started to cry again. Not sobbing, as he had been before, but just as uncontrollable. He finally let his head drop and cried quietly into his knees.

He was just so fucking _overwhelmed_ , and now he wasn't going to be able to even shut his fucking door or be alone or fucking _anything_. God, he was starting to think being on status was a form of torture, because there was just no fucking _escape_. He couldn't shut his door, so it was going to be way too loud and too bright, and he couldn't be alone, he was literally _always_ being watched, and he had to make sure they could see his hands and face while he was fucking _asleep_ or they'd wake him up and make him fix it. And it was just— just— _how_ was he supposed to calm down like this? How was he supposed to be able to get himself together?

"Richard. Can you try to move out of the bathroom please?" Christine asked.

Dick shook his head — an awkward, wobbly movement, with his forehead still resting on his knees. He probably _technically_ could leave the bathroom if he pitched his weight forward and then crawled, but there was no way in hell he was doing that shit. He'd given this place enough of his dignity, thank you very much.

"I need to be visible from outside."

Dick shrugged and shook his head again.

She sighed.

He heard her move back to stand just outside of the bathroom doorway, where she was just in view from the hallway, but still able to directly see him.

See? Problem fucking solved. She might be one of the nicer nurses, but he wasn't fucking crawling.

"Don't you want to sleep? It would be easier if you got in bed," she prodded.

She was no longer one of his favorite nurses. This shit was fucking annoying — all he wanted was some _peace_.

He shook his head again, still refusing to pick it up from his knees and look up.

"You don't want to sleep?" 

He shrugged annoyedly. He'd sleep just as fucking well right like this — what the hell did she care if he wanted to sleep in the bathroom?

She sighed again. "I need to be able to see your face, Richard."

And of course, here was this shit again. He shook his head violently.

"I'm sorry Richard, but it's a safety concern. I've got to be able to see your face."

"I'm not fucking suffocating, leave me alone!" he burst out.

"I'm sorry. I know it's obnoxious, but I really need—"

"Fine! Fucking fine!" Dick yelled, the anger fuelling him and propelling him to his feet. "You can see my fucking face, are you happy?" He stormed past her and to his bed, sitting down on the edge, and then immediately standing back up. "I want to call Jason."

He left the room, with Christine dutifully trailing behind.

Fuck. He just wanted Jason _here_. God, he just wanted to be able to fall asleep okay knowing he was right there; he didn't even care about the fucking nightmares, it wasn't like he wasn't going to have them anyway.

Dick sat down at the phone at the end of the hall and picked up the receiver, punching in the number much more harshly than necessary.

"Dick?" Jason picked up almost immediately, although he sounded kind of groggy, like he might've been asleep when Dick called.

Shit, Dick realized, feeling guilty, this was right in the middle of when Jason usually slept. He came to visit Dick in the mornings right after patrol and didn't get home until late afternoon, since the hospital was three hours away, and then Dick called at 10:15 just before lights out, and Jason would make himself and Damian dinner and head out on patrol after that, which meant he really only had a short window in between in the evenings to sleep. Shit. Dick probably should've thought that through before he woke him up.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hey sweetheart. How are you doing? It's pretty early, were you already going to bed?"

"I dunno. Not so good," he mumbled, dragging down the sleeve of his sweatshirt and running his fingers up and down over the inside of the arm holding the receiver. His voice was a bit scratchy from the screaming and hysterical sobbing earlier, and he tried to clear his throat quietly. "Sorry to wake you up, I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay honey, I wasn't sleeping real well anyway. What happened?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dick could see a couple of the other patients on the couch a couple meters away looking at him curiously, and he ducked his face down and away from them. Fuck, everyone had probably heard him freaking out earlier. _Great_.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Dick quickly blinked back the tears that had started to form again, and sniffled, clearing his throat again and wiping at his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, before returning his hand to its little ritual, stroking over the line of scars. God, he was so fucking _sick_ of crying. "Can you skip visiting tomorrow? And tell Bruce not to come too?"

"What? Why?" Jason sounded alarmed.

"I just...something set me off real bad, and I don't think I can deal with seeing anyone."

"I...okay. Is there anything I can do?"

Dick shook his head, even though he knew Jason couldn't see. He'd get the point. Dick was tired. "I miss you," he finally said. "I wish you were here."

"I'm sorry honey, I wish I was too."

"I wanna go home."

"I know. I want you to come home too. But not until you're feeling safer."

"I feel worse. Everything here makes me feel worse. I'm back on fucking status again."

"I'm sorry sweetheart. Why would they put you back on?"

Dick impatiently clucked his tongue. "Causing injury to another patient, apparently."

"Apparently you caused injury, or apparently that's cause for them to put you back on status?" Jason asked, wryly.

"Guess," Dick deadpanned.

"Who was it, and what kind of shit did they pull?"

Dick snorted. "See, I knew you were smart. It was the dumbass from yesterday—"

"That motherfucker that called you a faggot? He's fucking lucky he met me in a hospital instead of on the street, because I'd have been thrilled to bash his fucking face in."

"...Yeah. That one," Dick said, ignoring Jason's violent spiel. "He's the one who set me off. All I did was leg sweep him and get the fuck out of there."

"Can't they transfer him to a different ward or some shit? Why isn't _he_ the one on status? Wait, did he touch you? Because you know I am damn well not above threatening doctors and hospital administrators and whoever the fuck to get him transferred somewhere else."

"Don't know. And no, he didn't, he just—" he cut himself off. "Whatever, I don't really want to think about it anymore. Was gonna try to sleep, but I'm on status, so we'll see how _that_ goes." He took a deep breath. " _Fuck_ I miss you."

"I miss you too. You sure you don't want me to come tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I just...need some time. I still gotta get myself together. I don't know. I _want_ you here, it's just...not a good idea, I don't think. Especially since I don't know if that guy's still gonna be lurking around or whatever. I just can't handle that shit again — even if it's nothing big, I'm afraid it's still going to set me off again and I just can't do it."

"You should really push your doctor to at least make sure he's not allowed near you or allowed to talk to you. This is fucked up."

"Yeah. I don't know. I'm just...tired."

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I love you so much, and I wish I was there with you."

"I love you too."

"Are you still planning on trying to sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Goodnight, then. I love you, Dickiebird."

"Goodnight."

"Can I get a goodnight kiss?"

Dick sighed, but answered as if Jason was really there anyway. "A Vulcan one, yeah."

"Okay." He swore he could hear Jason's smile through the phone, and then there was a muffled tap through the receiver. 

Dick tapped his two fingers against the mouthpiece in response, and couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his face. It was stupid, but it kind of made him feel better.

"I love you. See you Friday," he said.

"Love you more. See you Friday," Jason confirmed.

Dick shook his head, and his smile grew. "You're a dirty liar and some day you'll pay for your sins. Goodbye."

He heard Jason laughing as he hung up.

Dick turned back to Christine, still smiling, and stood to leave, before realizing she looked taken-aback and a bit concerned. He felt his Jason-boosted mood start to dissipate, and his smile dropped. 

"It was a joke," he said. He could only assume her expression was from the change in tone from the rest of the conversation to the last line. Dammit, this was why he hated eavesdroppers. How was he supposed to explain that he wasn't mood-swinging from lovey to murderous at his boyfriend, and was actually engaged in an embarrassingly teenage 'no, _I_ love _you_ more' back-and-forth? Life was a scam.

"Ah." Christine said delicately, not sounding like she believed him.

"It was a _joke_. He laughed," Dick insisted. The last thing he needed was being stuck on status longer because he was being reported as violent and unstable or some shit.

"I believe you," she said. It didn't sound like she did.

Whatever.

Dick's hand found its way back up his sleeve to his arm, counting the scars as he headed back toward his room for another thrilling evening of being unable to sleep. 

◇◇◇

"I was told that Mr. Peters didn't come to visit today," Dr. Reed prompted, when Dick fell to silence during their session. 

"Yeah," Dick said, chewing at his thumbnail. "I asked him not to. Bruce too."

"And why's that?"

Dick shrugged and his hand dropped to his arm, skating over the scars. "The stuff from yesterday. Didn't want to deal with it."

The social worker frowned, but Dick ignored her.

"The incident in the cafeteria?" Dr. Reed asked.

Dick nodded.

"Ah, I was meaning to ask about that."

"What is there to say?"

"Well how about you tell your side of what happened?"

Dick shrugged again. "He called me and Jay faggots on Tuesday, we ignored him," he recited in a monotone. "Then yesterday he was behind me in the dinner line, getting in my space, and he was saying—" Dick cut himself off and his eyes flicked down to the floor, his hand stopping its movement to clamp around his arm tightly. "Just...really triggering stuff. He stepped toward me again, so I swept his legs and got out of there to get some space. I dunno. I was already kind of out of it at that point. Then I'm sure the nurses told you about the rest."

The med students were scribbling away on their clipboards, but Dr. Reed just nodded calmly. 

"I see."

"Is there any chance you could make it so he's not allowed to talk to me or get close to me?"

The doctor nodded again. "Yes, I suppose that could be arranged." He made a small note on his clipboard. "And how has all this made you feel?"

Dick shrugged. "I don't know. Fucked up?" He picked at a loose thread on one of the throw pillows. "I'm annoyed that all it takes is someone saying something stupid to set me off and fuck up my whole day."

"Okay, and what do you mean by 'set you off'?"

Dick sighed deeply. He had explained this at least ten times since he'd gotten here, and he really fucking wished the doctor would just _pay attention_ or look at his fucking notes.

"Trigger me, make me freak out and go into a full panic, send me into flashbacks, make me dissociate badly."

"I see. And is there anything else you wanted to talk about today?"

The med students were still writing quickly on their clipboards, and Dick wanted to know what the fuck they thought was so important.

"No," he finally said, looking away from them.

"Alright then. I think you can be taken back off status. Thank you for talking to me today." The stupid, blank smile on the doctor's face was back.

Dick really hated that smile. 

At least he was off status again — and hopefully he wouldn't have to deal with possibly-named-Tom-the-homophobic-asshole anymore either.

◇◇◇

Almost as soon as Jason was in through the ward door on Friday, Dick was hugging him, pressing his face into the crook of his neck and dropping his left hand to slide their fingers against each other in a Vulcan kiss.

"Hey sweetheart," Jason murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "Did ya miss me?"

"You know I did." Dick pulled back just enough that they could make their way over to the small sofa near the door.

Jason carefully didn't touch, allowing Dick to arrange himself on his lap as he wished.

"I missed you too. A lot. Like _a lot_ a lot."

"Oh really?" Dick laid his head on Jason's shoulder, looping his arms around his neck and stifling a yawn.

"Mhm." Jason slowly brought a hand up to rest on Dick's head, and he sighed.

"You can play with my hair if you like."

It didn't take long for Dick to feel himself drifting toward sleep, with Jason's fingers running soothingly through his hair, and the last two long, sleepless nights weighing heavily on him.

When he awoke — thankfully with no tears — Jason was still running his fingers through his hair. 

"Morning, sleepyhead. How you feeling?"

"Surprisingly alright, actually."

"Good!" Jason dropped his hand from his hair to his leg and squeezed his knee reassuringly. "I'm glad to hear that."

"I'm glad to feel it."

"Always gotta one-up me, huh?" Jason said, but his eyes were crinkled like he wanted to smile.

Dick grinned winningly. "It's part of my charm."

Jason sighed and kissed his temple. "I guess so."

Dick tilted his head to catch his lips in a quick kiss before he turned away.

Jason's brows drew together. "You feeling okay hun?" he asked again, and Dick frowned.

"Yeah? Why?"

"You...didn't confirm it was me."

Dick paused and blinked. Oh. He _hadn't_. 

"Is that...that's probably a good thing, right?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Well. High five for progress?"

Jason smiled and high fived him, intertwining their fingers afterward and resting their hands on his knee. "Progress."

Dick bit his lip for a couple seconds, before finally giving in. "Not to ruin the progress, but um...now that you've mentioned it…could you tell me something?"

Jason's smile didn't dim a watt. "'S still progress, sweetheart; sorry for bringing it up, though. What do you wanna know?"

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault." He thought for a moment. "Hmm...tell me about your favorite date we've had…"

◇◇◇

A week later, and Dick was more excited than he'd been about anything in a _while_. He had finally set things up with the staff to be able to see Damian, and he couldn't _wait_.

They were going to have to meet in a room elsewhere in the hospital, with Bruce present and a nurse to escort Dick, but it was so going to be worth it.

"We can go now, Richard," the nurse — named LaShonda — told him, heading for the door to the ward and scanning her keycard.

He followed along, out the door, down the stairs, and down another hall, before finally, _finally_ arriving at a small room where he could see Bruce waiting through the narrow window inset in the door. LaShonda opened it, and let him pass.

"Dami!" He held his arms out, and then Damian was across the room hugging him. "I missed you so much," Dick mumbled into his hair, squeezing him as tight as he could.

Damian was almost as tall as him now — a fact which was often easy to forget and even harder to come to terms with. It seemed like just yesterday Damian was still twelve years old and only up to his waist.

They stayed there hugging silently for several long minutes until Damian finally pulled back.

"Stupid that they won't let me onto the ward," was all he said.

Dick burst into laughter. "Oh Damian. I love you too." 

"Whatever," Damian said, but there was a slight smile around his mouth. "How are things in here?" he asked, sitting down on the loveseat.

Dick sat down next to him and leaned back, stretching out his legs. "Same old, same old. Very boring and repetitive as ever — although I'm hoping I can get out of here soon! I'm making a lot of progress, and my doctor has started talking about my safety plan, which means discharge is close!"

"Good. I have...missed you too. You need to come home so I can stop hanging out with Todd."

Dick grinned. "Yeah, he told me you've been hanging around a lot lately. No bloodshed yet?"

"Tt. Only because _you're_ not there. And no, I haven't deemed it necessary to _actually_ fight him yet. But I can't say there's been _none_ — not between us, but he's still…" he glanced over at the nurse, "distastefully eager at his _job_."

"I'll bet. He said he's been sleeping shittily since all of...this," he waved a hand around them, "and you know how he gets when he's tired." Jason's short temper tended to become practically nonexistent when he was running low on sleep, and Dick was willing to bet the number of knee replacement surgeries in Gotham had shot up significantly since he'd been in the hospital.

"Unfortunately," Damian agreed.

Dick shifted toward him and rested his forehead on Damian's shoulder, trying not to be stifling with the contact, but needing to have some sort of touch. Sometimes Damian wasn't in the mood for much physical affection, and Dick had already given him a hug, but his hand on the back of Dick's neck reassured him that he was okay with it.

Dick didn't play favorites in the family, but it was no secret that he and Damian were very close. It didn't matter that Bruce was alive and well and his _real_ father, and that Dick wasn't raising Damian anymore — hadn't been for a long time now — a part of him would always think of Damian as his son, and it was just so hard to go without seeing him for so long.

" _God_ I missed you so much. How's school going? Did you finish that AP Bio project you were telling me about on the phone?"

It felt like almost no time at all before LaShonda was telling them their hour was up, and Dick had to go back.

He gathered Damian into another tight hug. "I'll talk to you later this week, okay? And hopefully I'll know when I'm getting discharged by then."

Dick really couldn't wait until he could finally go home (and to not have to worry about time limits to hang out with Damian), and now, finally, it was getting almost close enough to touch.

◇◇◇

"Alright, if that's all you have to talk about today, then let's go over your safety plan one last time," Dr. Reed said four days later.

Dick nodded. He didn't know why they had to keep going over it, seeing as it was written down for him to refer to at any time, but if that was what it took to get out of this place then he'd gladly do it.

"So if you find your thoughts starting to spiral, what coping skills are you going to use?"

"Meditation, being present in the moment, or distraction."

"And if you're finding yourself unable to self-regulate, who do you contact?"

"Jay, Wally, or Donna."

"And what is your next step if these things still aren't helping, or if you find yourself in crisis?"

"Text the crisis line or call my therapist."

"And you have your therapist's information and the date of your first session?"

Dick pointed at where it was printed on the page.

"Good," Dr. Reed said, holding his hand out for Dick to shake. "You're all set for discharge tomorrow; I wish you all the best."

"Thank you."

Dick left the room, and headed back to where he'd left Jason on their couch at the end of the hall. He settled into his now-regular position sideways in Jason's lap, and Jason wrapped his arms around his middle.

"Still on for discharge tomorrow?" 

Dick nodded, and Jay grinned up at him, excited. 

"I can't wait to finally have you all to myself again. Telling you right now, I'm probably gonna sleep like a fuckin' rock as soon as you get in bed. I got a lot to catch up on."

Dick smiled back. "Oh so do I. You know very well how little sleep I've been operating on. I'll probably sleep straight through patrol."

"I'm gonna cuddle the fuck out of you."

Dick laughed. "Noted." He put a finger up like he was making a mental note. "Boyfriend set to turn into an octopus for approximately forty eight hours starting tomorrow."

"You joke, but I'm serious," he said, squeezing his arms around Dick's waist and leaning forward to nuzzle against the side of his neck, pressing a kiss to it. "You won't be able to get rid of me." He stopped, pulling back and reconsidering his words. "Well, obviously you _will_ actually if you're not enjoying it."

"How is it people find you scary again?" Dick nudged Jason's chin up with his hand and kissed him. "You're adorable. Thank you."

"Only adorable for you, sweet pea." Jason returned the chaste kiss.

Dick caught his lips again as Jason pulled back, and he leaned into the kiss until Jason's lips started moving with his. One of Jason's hands relinquished its hold on his waist, coming up to gently trace over Dick's cheek, and Dick curled his fingers in the back of Jason's hair, tugging and making Jason let out a small, " _Unh_ ," into the kiss. Jason pulled back entirely, flushing a brilliant pink and looking around furtively.

"Don't pull my hair in _public_ ," he admonished, sounding embarrassed, and let his hand drop from Dick's face.

Dick gave a small snort. "You liked it last time I did that. Remember the Sifra case?"

Jason flushed deeper red.

"Sorry Little Wing," Dick said sweetly, patting his cheek. "You're too fun to tease." 

He let out another laugh at Jason's answering scowl. "Adorable," he repeated to himself.

Jason scowled harder. "Don't laugh at me."

He had it on good authority that this particular scowl had sent people running for their lives on more than one occasion, but Dick just kissed his forehead where it creased between his eyebrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The procedure for getting to spend time with Damian is actually based off of how they set it up for one of my friends in the hospital with me to be able to have a visit with her child, so it is based off of real life! Dr. Roth is not the best psychiatrist, but he's also not completely unreasonable, and I think with Dick pleading enough for a way to get to visit with him and telling him he's not just his little brother, that he was raising him for a while and still thinks of him as his son, and with the progress Dick has been making, I think Dr. Roth would allow it.


	18. Sixteen

Dick had been discharged from the hospital, and he and Jason were now finally, _finally_ almost home.

Jason pushed open the door to the stairwell in their apartment building, and Dick followed him in, adjusting his grip on the two large hospital bags in his hand filled with all his clothes and books and shit that had been brought to him in the hospital. _Fuck_ , he really didn't want to have to go up four flights of stairs right now. Damn old ass Gotham apartments without elevators.

"My feet are killing me. They should really give a warning going into the hospital about that. Like, 'Hey, if you don't wear shoes for two months, you will severely regret it once you finally do have to'."

Jason chuckled. "You want me to carry you?"

Dick eyed him dubiously. Jason wasn't really going to carry a fully grown man with his bags and shit up four flights of stairs, was he? Maybe he meant once they got to their floor. "I mean, if you want to— _Oh!_ "

Jason swung him easily up into a bridal carry, and Dick's arms automatically looped around his neck, letting the bags dangle against his back. Dick's exclamation quickly turned into a surprised laugh. Well. Apparently Jason _was_ going to carry him up four flights of stairs.

"My hero," he said, half mock-earnest and half actually sincere.

Jason pressed a kiss to his temple. "Anytime, sweet pea."

Dick half expected Jason to give up halfway up the stairs — he wasn't bulky like Jason, but he did still have quite a bit of muscle on his frame and he wasn't light by any means — but Jason brought him all the way up, passing a disapproving Mr. Donovan heading down from the third floor. Dick had hidden his face in Jason's shoulder so he didn't have to see the look he knew they were getting, but Jason met the man's eyes and stared him down, daring him to comment, before pressing another kiss to Dick's head and continuing on his way up. It was possible he stuck his tongue out at the man's back once they passed him to make Dick giggle. 

He managed to get them up to their floor without further incident, unlocking their door and kicking it shut behind them without letting Dick go, and bringing him inside to set him gently on the bed.

"I'm impressed," Dick said, dropping his bags beside the bed to deal with later and kicking his shoes off. "That was quite the display."

Jason pushed the curls back from Dick's forehead and pressed a kiss to it. "Certainly more rewarding than most of my workouts."

Dick laid back on the bed with a grin, squirming his way under the covers. "Now, I believe I was promised nonstop cuddles once I got home…?"

Jason laughed and stripped off his t-shirt, before leaning back down and cupping Dick's face with both hands, starting to pepper his whole face with soft kisses. "Patience, buttercup," he said, dropping one last kiss on the tip of his nose and squishing Dick's cheeks with his hands. "You'll get them. As if I haven't been dreaming of finally getting to sleep with you back in my arms for weeks." He grinned at Dick's face with his cheeks all squished, and couldn't resist giving him two more quick kisses on one cheek before relaxing his hands.

Dick groaned. " _Buttercup_ , seriously?" But his eyes were closed in contentment, and he had a small smile on his face.

"Aw, I was hoping you wouldn't notice." Jason gave him a final loud, dramatic kiss on the other cheek, and pulled away again, kicking off his shoes and starting to empty the contents of his pockets onto the nightstand. "Foiled again. I liked that one too."

Dick laughed and opened his eyes, shaking his head fondly.

Jason crawled into bed, snaking his arms around Dick with a satisfied sigh. "You good, sweetheart?"

"Mmhm." Dick intertwined his hand with the one Jason had settled on his stomach and settled in, then seemed to abruptly change his mind. He rolled over and inched his way mostly on top of Jason, until he was lying with one of his legs between both of Jason's, and his face buried in the crook of his neck.

He took a deep breath in, inhaling Jason's familiar scent, and then let it out slowly. " _Hmmm yeah_ , this is better," he hummed, his eyes closed.

Jason let his hands rest just below Dick's shoulder blades, lightly scratching his nails over the skin through his shirt soothingly.

" _God_ I love you," he whispered out.

"Mm love you too," Dick mumbled into his neck, pressing a kiss to it, and burying his hand in Jason's hair.

They were both fast asleep in seconds.

◇◇◇

Dick and Jason slept straight through until patrol the next night.

"Mmh," Dick rolled out of Jason's arms, attempting to turn and look at the alarm clock. "Time 's it?" It was dark outside, but that didn't mean much.

He managed to turn himself the rest the way over, accidentally kicking Jason in the process, earning him a pitiful, sleepy, "Why?"

"That can't be right," he said, as he stared at the clock.

Jason reached out and dragged Dick back against him by the waist. "Stay."

"It's eight in the evening, and I have a hard time believing we only slept for six hours. Jay, we slept the whole day and night _and_ the next day."

"Wha…?" Jason opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. "Oh holy shit. Did we really?"

Dick leaned over the edge of the bed and dug around in one of the hospital bags until he found his phone, and then settled back against Jason, turning it on.

It took a few seconds for it to start up, but once it did, sure enough the date said it was the next evening from when they'd gotten home.

He held it up over his shoulder for Jason to see, and Jason groaned. 

" _Ugh_. I need a couple hours before we go out on patrol." He squeezed his arms tighter around Dick and closed his eyes again. 

Dick dropped his hand and set the phone beside his pillow.

"We need to eat something," Jason said after a long silence.

"That requires getting up."

" _Yeahhh_ ," Jason sighed out. "Not yet though."

He pressed a few light kisses to the back of Dick's shoulder and neck before burying his face against his back.

Dick trailed his fingers back and forth over the back of the hand on his stomach for several long minutes, before shifting impatiently.

"Time to get up, Jaybird. C'mon." He patted his hand.

Jason gave a small whine and buried his face harder against Dick's back.

Dick sighed, and pried Jason's hands off enough that he could squirm his way around to face him.

" _Nonono sweetie come back_ ," Jason whined, eyes still shut, making ridiculous grabby hands.

Dick tilted his face up with a hand on his chin and kissed him slowly, and Jason's whines melted into a deep, satisfied, " _Mmm_ ," his muscles relaxing and his hand settling on Dick's cheek.

"Gotta get up now," Dick pulled back just enough to murmur.

"One more kiss?" Jason puckered his lips exaggeratedly, and Dick dropped a quick kiss on them, which quickly turned into several more before he was able to pull himself away again.

"Come on, seriously, gotta get up. No more kisses until you actually get out of the bed."

Jason heaved a very put-upon sigh and finally opened his eyes.

"I love you," he said. "Even though you're horribly cruel."

Dick laughed. "Every time I think you can't get more dramatic…"

"Who could ever blame me? I'm being forced out of my beautiful boyfriend's arms under penalty of kisses being withheld. Cruel and unusual punishment! And what have I done to deserve it? Love him?"

Dick was positive he had on some truly _embarrassingly_ soft heart eyes. God, he was so fucking in love with his boyfriend, ridiculous melodrama and all. Maybe _especially_ because of the ridiculous melodrama. Because when he got like this, Dick couldn't possibly doubt that this was the _real_ Jason — nobody else would ever be able to capture his particular brand of drama quite like this. 

"Get out of bed, you dramatic bastard, so I can kiss you again." He pulled away from Jason's grasp and stood up from the bed.

Jason held a hand to his heart. "Truly, sweetheart, you wound me."

Dick held out a hand and wriggled his fingers impatiently. "You can do it," he said patronizingly.

Jason rolled his eyes and grabbed Dick's hand, letting him help haul him to his feet. As soon as he was standing in front of Dick, he let go of his hand and settled his hands on his waist.

"I believe I was promised more kisses?"

Dick gave him a soft smile and leaned up on his toes to kiss him, sliding a hand around the back of his neck and pulling his head down as he settled back onto his heels. He slowly started stepping backward and leading them out of the bedroom as they kissed.

They made it into the bathroom and Dick reluctantly pulled back again. "Brush your teeth and come meet me in the kitchen."

" _Or_ ," Jason said, "we keep making out and say fuck patrol."

Dick stepped back. "Morning breath."

Jason rolled his eyes again. "Like you've ever given a shit." But he turned to the sink and grabbed his toothbrush.

Dick retreated to the kitchen, and made Jason a strong cup of darjeeling tea, black, the way he liked it.

He pressed it into Jason's hands when he came into the kitchen, and leaned up to give him a quick peck before going to brush his teeth himself.

When he reemerged from the bathroom, Jason was making scrambled eggs at the stove and softly singing a song from 'Chicago' to himself. Dick came up behind him, sliding his hands over his hips and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"Thanks, Jay."

Jason turned around, his singing trailing off, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, then under one eye. "Can you start toast?"

"Mhm."

They managed to finish making and eating breakfast with minimal kissing breaks, before finally suiting up and heading out on patrol.

Dick was incredibly relieved to find over the course of the night that his skills didn't seem to have atrophied as much as he'd feared they might. It took him a few hours to really get back in the groove of things, but once he did, it felt as if he'd never been gone. Well, besides the utter shock of everyone he'd fought that _Nightwing_ was suddenly back.

"Yep!" he'd cheerily responded, every time. "In the flesh!"

"Where were you? Why were you gone for so long?" A particularly brave man had asked.

"Busy," Dick had said blithely. "You know how it is." He'd tightened the zip tie around the man's wrists. "Don't worry though, I've made time for justice in my schedule once again."

By the end of the night his feet still hurt like a bitch and his muscles burned a bit more than usual, but he hadn't gotten his ass kicked by anyone even a little bit, so he was counting it as a resounding success.

◇◇◇

Dick woke up crying the next day, but he was able to get himself calmed down fairly quickly, and Jason was right there with him, stroking his hair through it.

He grabbed Jason's free hand once he'd stopped crying, and rolled over against him. He pressed his face against his sternum and set the hand over his waist, throwing his own arm over Jason's shoulders and holding him tightly.

Jason slid his hand up Dick's back, rubbing comfortingly between his shoulder blades, and they laid there like that for a good while before Dick finally spoke up.

"You know, I haven't gotten my coming home present yet."

Jason smiled and kissed the top of his head.

"Yeah? You want me to get all dressed up for you today?"

"Mhmm," Dick mumbled against his chest, sliding a hand over his bicep and letting it rest there, tracing his thumb in slow circles. "I want a show."

Jason chuckled. "You'll get your show, let's get up and get something to eat first, though."

Dick reluctantly rolled back onto his back and let his hand drop.

They eventually got up, and Jason made them both breakfast.

"You want me to put the makeup on too, sweetheart?" Jason asked, as he put his plate in the sink once they were done.

"The lipstick. You don't have to do all the eyeshadow stuff — though it was _very_ sexy."

He nodded and disappeared into the bedroom.

Dick had just finished washing and drying the dishes and putting them away, when Jason sauntered back into the kitchen.

"Hey, how do I look?"

He turned around and looked Jason over slowly, barely realizing he was stepping forward until his hands were tracing over his waist, up his chest, down his arms. 

"Fucking sublime," Dick breathed out. "God, _amazing_. Get up on the counter for me?"

Jason grinned and slid past him to hop up on the counter, and Dick ran his hands over Jason's thighs in the fishnets, pushing his skirt up just enough for Jason to spread his legs so Dick could stand between them.

"Your thighs in this skirt should be fucking illegal," Dick murmured, staring down at them and running his hands up and down over the muscles.

Jason squeezed his thighs lightly against Dick's waist, hooking his ankles together behind his bum and drawing him in closer, and Dick slowly looked up at his face.

"Fuck," Dick whispered, and leaned up to kiss him.

It was slow and heady, and one of Dick's hands slowly slid up Jason's body to fist in the back of his hair while the other continued to trace up and down his thigh.

Their kisses escalated, until somehow — Dick didn't remember how — they ended up on the couch with Jason on top of him, kissing over his neck and sucking as Dick gasped for air, his eyes clenched tightly shut and both hands up the back of Jason's skirt.

"Oh fuck, Jay, Jay we gotta slow down." 

Jason was purposely slightly up on his knees so they couldn't grind against each other — which Dick was very thankful for — but even without that, it was still getting too heated.

Jason pulled back, and Dick opened his eyes. _Fuck_. He was unable to resist pulling him down for another kiss — even if he had to surrender one of his perfect handfuls of Jason's ass in those fishnets to do it. It was okay, he had another.

And they really _were_ perfect handfuls: all smooth skin (since Jason had thought it appropriate to only wear a jockstrap under the fishnets. Because _apparently_ , after all this, he wanted to be the cause of Dick's death) and just the right balance of fat and muscle. How could Dick have ever been expected to keep his hands to himself? Especially when Jason had so eagerly pushed his ass back into his hands, arching his back. Dick had been so very, very doomed from the start. 

"Not— not ready for more yet," he managed to get out between kisses.

Jason pulled back again with a last, lingering kiss, and Dick's face automatically followed up after him. "Okay sweetheart; think we need to stop then," he panted, pushing Dick back gently with a hand on his chest.

Dick sagged back against the couch and groaned, clenching his eyes shut and reluctantly removing his other hand from Jason's ass with a final caress down the back of his thigh. "Yeah, yeah you're right. Fuck, I really don't want to though." He let both hands settle on the slightly more neutral territory of Jason's hips.

Jason sat back on Dick's thighs and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the last traces of his lipstick off onto it, and Dick squeezed his hands on Jason's hips.

"What now?"

Jason trailed his fingers absentmindedly over Dick's chest and down his abdomen. "Let's watch a movie. Distraction." He realized what his hand was doing and he wrenched it away. "Shit, this is so much harder than I remember."

He got to his feet and pulled his skirt back down from where it had been rucked up around his hips, looking down at Dick and the smeared, dark burgundy lipstick prints streaking down his jaw and neck, and the smudgy mess over his mouth.

"You're kind of a mess, honey; you've got lipstick everywhere." 

"Eh," Dick said distantly, staring at Jason's thighs again. "I'll fix it later."

"And I'm putting on some sweatpants."

"Probably for the best," Dick agreed, his gaze not wavering in the slightest.

Jason's legs tensed as he turned to go and he saw Dick's tongue dart out to wet his lips, and— _oh_ , yeah, Jason really needed to leave the room now before he did something stupid like climb back on top of Dick and coax that tongue back into his mouth for another taste. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ this was _so much fucking harder than he remembered_. 

Pun entirely intended.

Eventually they settled in for the movie (with Jason now safely in pants), and managed to keep their hands and mouths mostly to themselves during it. Mostly. Dick absentmindedly started raking his nails over the scars on one of his arms, and Jason gently placed his hand over Dick's to stop the movement. He carefully pushed Dick's hand away, before picking his arm up and kissing each scar — a line of sixteen soft kisses up his arm — and linking their hands together. Then he let their entwined hands down to rest on his thigh, and leaned his head on Dick's shoulder.

Once the movie was over, Dick stood and stretched, before heading into the bathroom.

"Jesus christ, Jay. You weren't kidding when you said _everywhere_."

Jason laughed.

"Oh this is gonna be a _bitch_ to get off," he complained. "It's just smearing around. You got any makeup wipes?"

"Yeah, under the sink on the right."

"Thanks."

"Worth it?"

"Oh _definitely_ worth it," Dick said, pulling a wipe out of the package and scrubbing it over the side of his neck. "In fact, you have a standing invitation to do this to me again. And again. And again. Better make it an even dozen so I can really be _sure_ it's worth it."

Jason laughed again. "We'll see, sunshine."

◇◇◇

It became obvious over the course of the week that despite Damian's assertions to the contrary, Jason and Damian had become much closer in Dick's absence.

When Damian came to spend the night after patrols, Dick noticed that he and Jason were much more comfortable around each other. It was small enough that Dick wouldn't have been able to point it out even if he'd wanted to, but it was definitely there in the way Damian let himself completely relax around both of them in a way that he'd previously only allowed himself to do when it was just him and Dick. And he no longer seemed compelled to try so hard to ignore Jason as much as humanly possible like he used to.

And then there was the night that Dick had gotten caught up in Blüdhaven until dawn, and had come home to find Jason and Damian already fast asleep and curled up together — most definitely in a fashion that could be termed 'snuggling'. 

Dick swore his heart had melted and turned to mush immediately on sight, and he'd had to clap a hand over his mouth and hold his breath for damn near a minute to keep from letting out any number of embarrassing reactions, ranging from coos to squeals to loud _'Aww'_ s, all of which would surely wake them up. It was quite possibly the cutest goddamn thing he'd ever seen, and if he took a truly ridiculous number of photos for personal reference and safekeeping before quietly leaving to take a shower and slipping into bed with them, well, nobody had to know. 

Dick also could have sworn he'd seen Damian using a couple of Jason's moves on patrol, which gave him the adorable mental image of Jason teaching him after they sparred. He was sure they'd been spending a lot of their time together sparring, and he supposed it wasn't much of a surprise that Jason would use a move or two that Damian would eventually be compelled to admit he wanted to learn.

In reality, the teaching had probably not been nearly as sweet as he was imagining, and probably a lot more violent, but Dick could dream. 

And, of course, he would always have those photos of them cuddling to keep his hopes up about that sort of thing. He'd already backed them up on the cloud _and_ on his hard drive in heavily encrypted files. If Damian ever found out, there was no way he would be hacking in and deleting them — no, those pictures would have to be pried from Dick's cold, dead hands.

Jason and Bruce were on better terms now too, as Dick had been pleased to find out. He hadn't really seen them _together_ since he was in the first hospital, but apparently his suicide attempt had brought them closer together. Or so he assumed.

In actuality, that wasn't entirely accurate. After their bonding moment outside the hospital, things had been a little awkward, at least on Jason's half. It wasn't that he was _ashamed_ to have needed to lean on Bruce, but… Well yeah, actually. He was ashamed and he didn't want to acknowledge it, and so he ended up avoiding Bruce as much as possible.

Until he'd started counselling with Black Canary.

Talking about everything had started bringing Talia to the front of his mind again — although he hadn't yet told Dinah about that — and he'd kept thinking of Bruce finding out all those weeks ago and his weird reaction. Jason still hadn't known if Bruce was upset with him or what, and Bruce had never brought it up again.

He just hadn't been able to get it out of his head though, so he'd set aside his pride and called Bruce.

"...Hey." he'd said, when Bruce picked up. "Are you still...mad at me?"

Bruce had sighed heavily. "What for?"

"Uh. Talia."

Bruce had paused then, the silence stretching on until Jason was certain Bruce was still pissed.

"No," Bruce finally said. " _No_ , of course I'm not mad. I was never mad at _you_."

Jason had pulled his phone away from his ear to stare at it, to make sure he was really talking to Bruce. "Oh." he'd said. And then, "What?"

"I'm...I'm sorry if it seemed like I was upset with you, I didn't intend for that. It wasn't your fault."

 _It wasn't your fault_. 

It wasn't his fault? Of course it was his fucking fault, _he'd_ fucked her.

"I fucked your ex, I fucked Damian's mom, how are you not mad?" He was honestly dumbfounded.

"It wasn't your fault," Bruce repeated.

"Stop saying that! Of course it was my fucking fault, _I_ agreed to it, _I_ did it, she didn't _force_ me."

"Jay…you weren't in a position for your agreement to actually mean anything and I think you know that."

Jason's stomach felt like he missed a step going down the stairs. Or two. Or hell, he felt like he was tumbling ass over elbow down a whole fucking _flight_ of stairs right now.

"Don't— don't do this, Dick does this, I _agreed_. I agreed. _I_ did it. Why does nobody understand that?"

"Jay…"

"No! She— she told me to punish you before I killed you. For Ra's. And I _did_ , I _agreed_ , because I _wanted to_. Because I thought you deserved it."

"Jay. She was manipulating you."

"But I…"

"Would you think it was at all okay if _I_ was sleeping with an eighteen year old? If I had been even _ten years ago?_ "

"Of course not. But—"

"Because it's wrong, right? Because even ten years ago I would be in a major position of power over them."

"Yeah, but—"

"And that's not even factoring in all the _other_ things."

"But it's not the same!" Jason had burst out.

"How isn't it?"

"I— It's not the same!" he repeated desperately, floundering for a reason why.

"I get it, Jason. I've been there. Damian...Damian came about due to her machinations. I had no say in what was happening."

Jason had felt sick. "That's… that's fucked up," he had stuttered out. "That's fucked up. It's not the same."

"But it's not altogether that different either."

Jason had angrily scrubbed at his eyes, which were burning for some strange reason. "It's not the same, I agreed, I _agreed_ ," he repeated, although it sounded weak even to his own ears.

"It's okay, champ. It's okay."

Jason had had a little bit of a breakdown after that conversation, and it had certainly come up in his counselling with Dinah, but it served to open him back up to Bruce. They still weren't the best of friends, and it wasn't like they ever talked just to _talk_ , but they were closer and Jason was less standoffish with him.

◇◇◇

It wasn't that Dick didn't have his bad days — Jason could hardly miss that when just a few days ago, he'd had Dick curled up in his lap, sobbing into his chest about feeling slutty and permanently unclean. Jason had just held him tight and let him cry himself out when his reassurances fell on deaf ears.

There were still days, too, when Dick compulsively quizzed him on his identity, unable to feel certain that he really was who he said he was.

Overall, though, Dick was doing much better, and it showed. He was doing well with therapy — seeing the same therapist as Cass — and most importantly, he no longer had that horrible emptiness about him anymore. 

He had a lot of anger and upset to deal with as he worked through everything that had happened now that he was no longer stuck behind that curtain of numbness, but he was working it out. It was just good for him to finally be feeling and _caring_ again.

It wouldn't be quite right to say he was 'back to his old self', but he was certainly several steps in that direction. He would probably never really be able to go back all the way, but Dick found that he was okay with that — he could become something new, something truer to himself as he was now.

Dick was actually pretty happy with the person he was right now, he thought as he came in through the bedroom window. He was still a little rough around the edges, a little burnt, but he was working on it, and for the first time in his life he wasn't shoving the broken parts into a dusty cupboard and slapping on a pretty mask, and that was a _considerable_ step for him.

And...Dick was also happy to be alive. It wasn't an all-consuming jubilation, but the good outweighed the shitty enough that one day he had been surprised to find that he didn't want to die. Not just not actively wanting to die enough not to make an attempt on his life again, but genuinely _not wanting to die_. And more than that, actually being happy to still be here, happy to have this extra time he had wanted to cut short to spend with his family and Jason and their friends. 

Life still held so many struggles — some of them, at times, unbelievably difficult — but it felt _worth it_. Worth it for cuddles with Damian, for teaching Tim new ridiculous gymnastics moves he'd never have a practical use for, and for watching Cass' ballet recitals. For long, early morning chats over hot chocolate with Alfred, for falling in love with Jason all over again every single day, and for forging strong friendships with the women who _understood_ him.

"Hey sweetie, how was ladies night?"

Jason was referring to the weekly meeting-of-sorts that Dick went to as Nightwing late every Tuesday evening with some of the prostitutes of Gotham. They had called it ladies night once as a joke, but then it had just sort of...stuck.

The meetings had been born out of Tootsie's offer to talk with him, and it had turned sort of into a support group. They didn't always talk about the things that had happened to them, more often it was just a safe place to shoot the shit with people who understood and related, but if any of them ever felt the need to, they knew they could. They'd become close over the weeks, and Dick found that they were good friends to have.

"It was nice." He shut the window and held up a container. "Tootsie sent me home with more snickerdoodles for you. And me. Mostly for you."

"Fuck yeah."

Dick came over to the bed and leaned down to kiss him, one hand trailing over his chest. Jason could tell he was discreetly feeling for his autopsy scars and breathing in his scent — little ways to confirm his identity — and Jason put his book down on his stomach, running a hand through Dick's hair.

"D'you need me to tell you something?" he asked quietly against Dick's lips.

Dick shook his head. "No, it's okay." He gave him another quick kiss and then pulled back. "You gonna come out on patrol now?"

"Yeah."

Even though Dick had been back on regular patrols for a few weeks now, Jason still found himself keeping an ear out for him over the comms when they went out.

Later that night, he was working to keep the smile off his face as he listened to Dick fighting someone while Jason finally backed the piece of shit loser he was after into a dead-end alley.

“I guess running wasn’t so smart, huh?” he asked the guy.

And, wow, Dick sounded _alive_. He was probably doing some sort of completely unnecessary acrobatics, just toying with whoever was dumb enough to fight him.

“Too slow!” he heard Dick say, before letting out an exhilarated laugh. 

Jason felt the grin finally break through onto his face. It didn't matter, he had his helmet on anyway.

“Kick his ass, sweetheart!” he egged on, and Dick gave a full-out cackle.

“ _Hood_ ,” Bruce said exasperatedly through the comms.

“What the hell?” The guy Jason had cornered looked confused, and more than a little scared.

“Do I look like I was fucking talking to you?” Jason snapped, and kicked him in the kneecap. 

He zip-tied the man’s hands together. “Don’t sell drugs to kids, bitch."

Dick finished taking down the man he had been fighting, and listened to Jason over the comms interrogating the dealer about who had sent him out on the drop and who else was selling to minors.

He tested the hold on the zip tie and sent out a signal to the police, humming as he grappled up onto the nearest rooftop.

Once Jason wrapped up his little interrogation and headed back out onto the street, Dick's aimless humming turned into the chorus of Imelda May's 'Big Bad Handsome Man'.

> ' _Cause he's my big bad handsome man, he's got me in the palm of his hand..._

Jason let out a surprised, delighted laugh.

"Are you—" A few more chuckles slipped out, and he stopped, leaning against the side of a building as he laughed. "Oh _sweetheart_ , I thought you'd never say."

"Well it's true, isn't it?"

"If I do say so myself."

"What is that, what were you humming?" Tim broke in.

"Don't worry about it," they both said at once.

"But I wanna know what the joke is," Stephanie butted in.

Jason laughed again. "Tough luck."

"Batman? Did you recognize it?" Tim asked. 

"Nightwing and I don't exactly share the same taste in music, no," Bruce said.

"Robin?" Tim asked, hopefully. "You're over at their place a lot, have you heard it?"

"No, Red Robin. I have no idea what it was and I don't care. They were clearly... _flirting_ —" he said the word like it was something repulsive "—do you really need to know more?"

Tim pouted. "I hate being out of the loop."

"I'm with Red," Stephanie piped back in. "My curiosity is officially piqued."

Dick sighed. "Well now it won't be funny."

"I don't need it to be funny," Tim said. "I just need to _know_."

"Hmm, I think you'll live," Dick said wryly.

"I'm hacking your iTunes library when I get home," Tim muttered.

Dick snorted. "You have fun with that."

"You tell him, uh..." Jason trailed off.

"Oh no," Dick said, preparing for another ridiculous pet name.

"Uh," Jason said again.

"Oh," Dick said. " _Oh_. Have you finally run out of awful pet names, then?"

"No!" Jason said quickly.

"Well go on, then."

"Uh," Jason stalled. "There's uh…hold on, I got this. There's...uh……...rodent."

There was a small silence, and then Dick absolutely _lost it_ laughing.

" _Rodent?_ " he wheezed out, and Jason heard several of the others start to laugh over the comms as well.

"No, I didn't— That came out— I just meant, like rodents are cute, I was trying to think of, like, _a_ rodent, like a type of rodent, like a rabbit, or a...weasel — _no!_ " he said quickly, as Dick and the other bats laughed even harder. "Not a weasel! Fuck. Shutting up now."

Dick was doubled over, laughing so hard there were tears streaming out of his eyes and he was desperately gasping for breath.

"Who could— who could ever think romance is dead," Dick gasped out, between bouts of laughter, "when I have Hood here to call me— to call me a _weasel_." His laughter took over again.

Jason pouted. "A man tries for romance every damn day of a relationship and it's nothing, but he accidentally calls you a weasel _once_ and suddenly it's the peak of his romantic ability."

"I don't think you realize how funny what you just said is," Stephanie said.

Jason sighed deeply. "I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"No," Dick said. "Absolutely never."

◇◇◇

Jason was impatiently pacing in front of the door. He was nervous for tonight, as he always was with family stuff no matter how long it had been since he was actually on the outs with them.

"Let's go already, I'm fucking starving."

Dick slipped his jacket on. "Already tired of being a good little jewish boy?" he teased. "You know you didn't _have_ to fast. Bruce does, but I don't think he'd actually care if you didn't want to. As long as you still come over for the meal."

"Yeah, but Alfred would _know_ , and he'd be disappointed," he complained. 

Dick laughed.

"And," Jason added grudgingly after a moment, "we're supposed to be repairing relations and all that today — it's not exactly off to a good start if I don't even follow the rules."

"That's the spirit!"

Jason rolled his eyes and followed him out the door. "What are you so excited for anyway? This is supposed to be a somber holiday, Dickie, set a good example, now."

Dick stuck out his tongue. "I'm excited for my once-yearly date with Alfred's sweet lokshen kugel and you'll never take that joy away from me." His face dropped slightly as he pushed open the door to the stairwell. "I probably _should_ be a bit more somber though; I've a lot more to atone for this year than usual."

Jason frowned, starting to follow down the stairs after him. "No you _don't_."

"Well that's for everybody to decide on their own, isn't it?"

Jason's frown stayed right where it was. "Still don't think you should have to _'atone'_ for any of that stuff, honey bunny."

"Well I think I do, and that's that."

Jason sighed, but let it go, changing the subject. "Not to completely blow it for myself, but I can't believe you just let 'honey bunny' slide."

Dick looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. "As long as you're not calling me a weasel again."

Jason's pout made Dick unable to resist grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm before lacing their fingers together and pulling him down a few steps so they could walk side by side.

Like every Yom Kippur — and, indeed, every entire family get-together — the evening was a bit chaotic, but all things considered, it went pretty smoothly.

The break fast meal was, of course, delicious, just as everything Alfred served always was; and they had all moved to one of the sitting rooms to talk.

Dick hugged Tim tightly after they'd finished their conversation and forgave each other. 

"Oh yeah, I found the song," Tim said, when he pulled back. "'My big bad handsome man', really?"

Jason looked over from his conversation with Damian on the other side of the sofa.

Dick blushed, but defended himself. "Am I wrong, though?"

Tim paused just long enough to be telling, and Jason let out a loud laugh.

"Oh, you think I'm handsome, Timmers?"

"Not _personally_ ," Tim protested, sounding offended. "Just— objectively— shut up," he said, when Jason kept laughing.

"Do I want to know how you even found the song?" Dick asked.

Tim shrugged. "Like I said, I hacked your iTunes library and spent a few days listening through all your music. You have weird, _weird_ taste, by the way."

" _Jeez_ ," Dick said. "I didn't think you'd actually do it!" 

Tim shrugged again. "I was curious."

"You're an odd one, Timmy," Jason said, leaning over and ruffling his hair, which made Tim bat his hand away. "But at least nobody can say you lack determination."

By the time they all went out on patrol, Dick was feeling a lot lighter. There had been a lot of hard conversations, but all the confession and the unhesitating forgiveness had lifted a heavy weight off of his soul.

◇◇◇

The next day was a sleepy one, and it wasn't long after they got out of bed that Dick and Jason found themselves lying on the couch watching TV.

Jason was on his back with his knees up, and Dick was on his stomach between Jason's legs, his cheek cushioned on the soft spot between his ribs, and they had both hands intertwined and resting on Jason's upper chest.

Dick seemed to have fallen back asleep at some point, and he was drooling a little on Jason's shirt, but Jason didn't mind. It was kind of cute, actually.

The living room window slid open and Stephanie stumbled in.

"Oh _barf_ ," she immediately said, looking at them. "You guys are sickening."

Jason looked away from the TV in annoyance. "Shh. Insult us quieter, please, he's sleeping."

Dick made a small noise in his sleep and shifted slightly, and Jason slid his foot soothingly up and down the back of his calf, stroking his thumbs over the side of Dick's where their hands were entwined and softly shushing him.

Stephanie made an exaggerated gagging motion, and Jason looked back up at her, rolling his eyes. "You came into _our_ apartment," he reminded her. "What did you expect? Now what do you want?"

"You heard anything about a new drug making its way around, makes people really paranoid?"

"Maybe. Tell me more…"

They only ended up talking for about half an hour, and Dick blinked his eyes open just as Stephanie was sliding the window shut after herself none too quietly.

"Hey sweetheart, sorry, did we wake you?" Jason asked quietly, gently squeezing his hands.

"Nn-nn," Dick hummed no, squeezing back. "'S okay." He tilted his head up, scooting up slightly, and puckered his lips for a quick kiss.

Jason kissed him, and he felt Dick kiss back for a second before flinching back slightly. He pulled back and opened his eyes to see Dick's eyes clenched tightly shut and the muscles in his legs tensed like he was prepared to spring off of the sofa at the drop of a hat.

"Could— could—" Dick stuttered, his hands squeezing Jason's tighter. "Are—" He cut himself off, turning his head and burying his face in Jason's chest, and taking in a slow, deep breath.

"You need me to tell you something, honey?"

Dick didn't respond immediately, continuing to breathe deeply, and letting go of one of Jason's hands to slip his hand up Jason's shirt, feeling over his side. He took his time tracing over every scar within reach and the slightly-raised birthmark over one of his ribs, and finally settled his hand on the curve of Jason's waist when he was satisfied that everything was present and where it should be.

He shook his head, finally responding to Jason's question, but he kept his face buried against his chest.

"Okay sweetheart," Jason murmured, rubbing his free hand soothingly over Dick's upper back, and Dick's muscles slowly started to relax.

"I love you," Dick mumbled into his chest, after several minutes of silence.

"Love you too, sweetie."

Dick finally turned his head to the side again so his words weren't muffled. "I'm so in love with you it boggles my fucking mind sometimes." He clenched his hand lightly against Jason's waist.

Jason chuckled. "Yeah?"

Dick tilted his head up to smile up at him, eyes soft. "Yeah."

Jason smiled back at him and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Well it's an awful good thing I'm stupidly in love with you too, then, isn't it?"

"I guess so," Dick said, his grin widening. "Funny how that all works out."

"Hmm, _funny_. That's one word for it."

Dick brought his hand up to cup Jason's cheek. "Seriously, though, I just want to… you've just been so fucking loving and supportive through all of this, every minute of it, and I can't possibly thank you enough for it. I couldn't be getting through this as well as I am without you, and I just hope you know how much I love and appreciate you." 

Dick scooted himself up a bit higher on the couch, his hand briefly sneaking under the collar of Jason's t-shirt to feel for the edge of the long, jagged scar on his shoulder, before sliding smoothly up to cup his neck as Dick leaned in and kissed him.

"Because I do," Dick continued, punctuating his sentence with another kiss. "I really do, I appreciate you _so_ much."

Jason kissed him back, rubbing the back of Dick's hand that was still clasped in his with his thumb. "Thank you, sweet pea. I love you more than anything and I'm just doing my best to help you any way I can. I know you appreciate me."

"And I hope you know you're it for me. Don't think that just because I learned my lesson after three failed engagements that I'm any less serious about commitment than you are."

Jason kissed him again. "I know, honey. You sure picked the right guy: I can't get married anyway — I'm legally dead."

Dick laughed. "And since when have you let a silly little thing like the law tell you what you can and can't do?"

"Good point, let's get hitched."

Dick laughed again. "No, no, I need time to think of something to call it all off last-minute for. I'm running really low on excuses at this point and I wanna go four for four."

Jason snickered. "You're awful."

"So they say. You think that's why I never actually managed to get married?"

"Oh, I dunno," Jason drawled. "Maybe it's more like thinking of spending the whole rest of their life with the brilliance that is you is like staring into the sun. Overwhelming and unbearable in its magnificence."

"You're a horrible flatterer."

"I would never." Jason sounded incredibly over-the-top faux-offended and it made Dick smile.

"Well then what about you? How do you fare in the face of the sun?"

"Oh, me?" Jason grinned. "I brought sunglasses, sweetums."

Dick was unable to resist kissing him for that, even with the horrendous pet name. 

The whole analogy was corny and stupid, and unfortunately Dick found it terribly, terribly romantic. _Sunglasses_. Of course Jason would be the only one to come prepared; he always _did_ play by different rules.

They kissed slowly for a few minutes, only stopping when there was a sudden, loud throat clearing. They both pulled apart, looking over in surprise at the intruder.

"When did _you_ get in here?" Jason asked — he hadn't even heard the window opening again.

"Repulsive," was all Damian said, ignoring the question entirely.

Jason rolled his eyes, but Dick sat up.

"Did you come over for anything in particular?" he asked, scooting down to the other end of the sofa and pushing Jason's legs over so he was only taking up half the cushions.

Damian shrugged, and Dick took that to mean that he'd had a shitty day at school and wanted comfort, but didn't want to say it in so many words. He patted the empty bit of cushion beside him. "Come watch TV with us."

Damian sat without protest and leaned heavily against Dick's side, and Dick wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"I'll go make us some popcorn," Jason said.

When he came back, Damian had taken his shoes off and curled up, and almost as soon as Jason had set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and sat back down — upright this time, rather than lying down — Damian shoved his feet under his thigh, resolutely _not_ looking at him. 

Jason smiled, eyes also directed pointedly at the screen, and let his hand rest on Damian's ankle.

◇◇◇

A few nights later, Jason had asked Dick for some backup on a case. Strictly speaking, Jason probably didn't _need_ backup, but teaming up together was so much more fun.

"See you on the other side, love bug," Jason said.

Dick shook his head fondly. "Awful _and_ corny."

He held his fingers out for a Vulcan kiss, and Jason tapped them with his own, before they silently split up: Dick grappling up onto the roof and Jason slipping in the front.

"Hey guys!" Jason said loudly, drawing the guards' attention.

All six of them pointed their guns at him, and he held his hands up.

"Woah now, let's not do anything rash. I don't think I'm allowed to get shot tonight."

One of the men pulled the trigger.

Jason dropped to the floor behind the crates and rolled into a crouch. "Well hey, somebody's not using their listening ears."

He moved a bit further down the stacks of crates as they shot at the place where he'd just been, running through their ammo like idiots.

Silence fell for a moment and Jason watched them through a crack as they watched the spot where he had been, waiting to see if he'd managed to survive their attack.

"Fine, if you're so insistent, let me check." He went back the way he came instead of moving further down, and, as predicted, they let loose a spray of bullets down the rest of the line of crates. The man closest to the entrance, and now closest to Jason, was out of bullets. Nice.

"Nightwing, sweetheart!" he called. "Am I allowed to get shot?"

He watched them all immediately look up, waiting for Nightwing to drop down, and Jason knew that Dick was probably stifling laughter.

"No, dear," Dick played along, his voice echoing down through the warehouse. A few men shot up blindly toward the roof. "We just got the couch reupholstered and I don't want blood on it again."

Jason grinned and suppressed a snicker. "Sorry boys, the husband says no." 

Several Wingdings came flying down, making one of the men drop his gun as he was cut, and Jason leapt out from behind the crates, going straight for the closest one with the empty gun.

He clocked him hard in the temple and jumped to kick the second-closest man straight in the face. Both of them went down, but the other men had recovered from their surprise and started shooting again. Jason did a back handspring out of the way of the bullets, toward the man on the far end, and kicked him in the back of the knee. His head smacked painfully on the ground as he went down, and Jason grabbed the man's gun, hitting another man in the back of the head with the butt of it.

"Nice. That was hot," Dick said, and Jason turned to see him zip-tying the second man he'd taken down's hands together, the two remaining men already down and trussed up.

"Aw man, I didn't even get to see you take them down," Jason said, pulling out his zip ties and getting to work on the two men at his feet.

Dick waved at one corner of the room. "There's CCTV in here, remember? You can watch it later."

"Yeah, but it's not the _same_ ," he whined, getting to his feet, the men all taken care of.

"If you two are done flirting," Barbara cut in through the comms, "the rest of us would like some peace and quiet."

"Killjoy," Jason said, unrepentantly.

"Hey, uh…" Tim's voice came through. "You guys didn't, like, _actually_ get secretly married or something, right?"

Both of them burst into laughter.

"No," Dick said finally said, through his laughter. "We did not get secretly married."

"See, I told you, honey bunny: even Red has faith in the strength of my sunglasses."

"What in the everloving _fuck_ does _that_ mean?" Tim asked.

They both ignored him.

"Shut up." Dick shoved at Jason's shoulder half-heartedly, but he was blushing. "And just because I let that name slide _once_ in a moment of weakness does not mean you have free reign to call me that."

"Mhm, sure thing my little bun-bun."

Dick groaned. "How did you make it _worse?_ "

Jason snickered. "It's a talent, jellybean."

"I think I preferred it when you were calling me a weasel."

" _Anyway_ ," Jason said to the others. "No, we didn't get secretly married, but 'husband' just has so much more _drama_ to it. I have an aesthetic to keep up, you know. It's either that or 'the missus', and I don't think he's too fond of that one."

"Absolutely not. It makes me sound like an aging housewife who stands around doing the ironing all day in floral dresses that look like old lady wallpaper."

Jason cracked up again. "Oh sweetheart; I _love_ your mind."


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING Chapter Contains:** Brief Explicit Sexual Content (at the beginning)
> 
> _Skip to ' **"I'm sorry!" Tim did, indeed, sound very sorry.** ' if you don't wish to read it._

Everyone had been _warned_.

Time and time again, both Dick and Jason had told the various people who stopped by their place that knocking was important (and _polite_ ) before barging in.

However, Damian had always invited himself in without a second thought, regardless of any door-locking that may have been done, and the others unfortunately took the lead from him. The worst that had happened was Stephanie walking in on them kissing once, and that was no big deal.

Each of them had individually assumed that Jason and Dick just didn’t have sex — or at least not often enough to be any sort of risk. They had been right for a while, but now…well now they were _mostly_ right. Sort of.

Well, actually, right _now_ Dick’s knuckles were white as he gripped the headboard tightly, biting back small sounds as he leaned his face against it. He rocked down harder against Jason’s mouth as he straddled his face, and Jason’s hands on his hips pulled him down even harder.

Dick gasped softly, and squeezed his cock to keep himself from coming.

He began riding Jason’s face in earnest, and felt him moan against him. Jason had told him before how hot he found that, but Dick was still surprised by just how earnestly he seemed to mean that when he took a hand off of Dick’s hip to touch himself.

Jason, for his part, was just trying his best to get Dick to keep making those little noises. For all he could be a loudmouth in every other part of his life, Dick still fucked like there was a little old lady in the next room he was afraid of offending.

Jason thought something was a little wrong with him that it turned him on more when Dick was trying so hard to be quiet. Well— there were a _lot_ of things that were wrong with him, so maybe this was the least of his concerns.

Dick bit the hand that he’d clamped over his mouth to muffle his panting.

The bedroom door opened, and Dick whipped his head toward it, eyes wide. It slammed shut almost immediately, with a squeak from the intruder, but not before Dick caught a glimpse of Tim’s mortified face.

“Jesus— _Tim!_ ” Dick scrambled none too gracefully off of Jason’s face.

“I’m sorry!” Tim did, indeed, sound very sorry. More sorry for himself than for them, though. 

He had retreated away from the door, and tried not to listen, but that was difficult when—

“Ow! My fuckin' _neck_. No, it’s okay sweetheart— shit! SHIT.”

There was a loud _thunk_ , and then a blur, as someone ran from the bedroom straight across the hall into the bathroom. 

Yeah. Jason had never been quiet.

Tim sat himself down on the couch, and ignored Dick as he heard him sneak past the back of the couch and into the kitchen. This was not how Tim imagined his afternoon going. 

God, he needed more coffee; it was still too fucking early for him. Being awake during daylight hours was for workdays only, and even then…rough.

Jason came out of the bathroom, holding a wad of bloody tissues to his nose and slowly rolling his neck. 

“Hun?” he called, when he heard Dick in the kitchen. “Could you make me a cup of tea too while you’re in there?”

“Uh huh.”

Tim suspected Dick hadn’t been making himself tea at all, judging from the noises. It sounded like he was just puttering around picking up and putting down random objects, buying himself time in the other room by sounding busy before he had to face Tim.

Jason turned and saw Tim looking, and pointed at him accusingly.

“I’m sending you the fucking doctor bill if you broke my fucking neck.”

“It’s not _broken_ ,” he protested. “And _I_ didn’t do it.”

Jason glared, and stalked over into the living room, not bothering to go get a shirt. The kid could fucking deal — he’d grabbed sweatpants, that was good enough. 

“It’s _your_ fault. Now what the fuck did you want? Must've been important for you to pick the fuckin' lock.” He flopped down into the armchair next to the couch.

Tim blushed. His eyes kept finding their way to look at Jason’s mouth, which was _not_ something he wanted to think about, but he just couldn’t _stop_. I mean, he had just been— “Oh, uh, it wasn’t anything really important—” Yes, so that had become an unfortunate habit. It wasn't like he was the _only_ one, and there wasn't usually any _reason_ for it to be locked! 

Jason already knew that though, and Tim could tell from the way he'd phrased the question that he already knew the answer he was going to get. Apparently that didn't make him any less pissy. Melodramatic bastard.

“Oh great, that’s just what I wanted to hear! I’m so glad I almost broke my fucking nose and fucked up my neck over it!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“But here we are, nonetheless.”

Jason removed the wad of tissues from his face, and gently dabbed at his nose a few times before finally seeming satisfied that it had stopped bleeding. He licked his lips, and caught Tim’s eyes darting away. _Again_.

“Stop it,” he snapped.

Tim blushed harder and stared fixedly at the coffee table. “What?”

“You know what. Stop.”

“I’m not doing anything!”

Jason leant forward in his chair intimidatingly, and Tim finally met his gaze.

“Stop. Looking. At. My. Mouth. _Timmy_.”

If Tim didn’t know spontaneous human combustion was a myth, he’d be afraid he was in serious danger of it right now. 

“ _Okay!_ Sorry!” He went back to concentrating very hard on the coffee table.

Jason relaxed back in his chair. “Christ, it’s like you’ve never eaten someone out before. Ain’t you and that clone boy a thing?” he asked, waving a hand vaguely.

Mortification was truly not a strong enough word for what Tim was feeling right now. This had to be a form of torture, right? Surely this whole afternoon qualified as cruel and unusual punishment.

“What I do in bed is _not_ your business.”

“Glad we agree,” Jason said calmly, still seemingly unaffected by the crushing embarrassment that permeated the whole apartment. “But, you and the clone. You two a thing?”

“Uh...it’s complicated. And Bruce doesn’t know, so don’t tell him.”

“Oh yeah, 'cause me and the old man are _real_ chatty,” he said sarcastically. “He definitely already knows though,” he added, seriously.

Tim put his face in his hands. “Just. Stay out of it and don’t say anything.”

“My lips are sealed.” He looked over toward the kitchen, where Dick was _still_ lurking, despite the fact that tea takes five minutes at most to make.

“Hey Dickie? If we’ve got any coffee still in the pot, it looks like the little birdie could use some. Don’t bother to heat it up though.”

Tim picked his head up, frowning. “That’s just mean.”

Jason put his hands out, as if to say ‘what can you do?’

“Too bad. That’s what ill-timed birds get.”

“Are you ever going to stop being mad at me for this? It was an accident!”

Jason laughed. “Oh Timmy, I’m not mad.” 

“Oh. You’re...not?”

“No,” he said mildly. “I am _absolutely_ still going to hold a grudge, though. I’m gonna go see what’s taking Dickie so long.”

He got up, and disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.

Tim sighed and put his feet up on the table as they talked quietly in the kitchen— Oh great, and now he could hear them kissing. Just what he needed.

“Maybe if we just stay in here, he’ll eventually leave,” he heard Jason say.

“No! He came to visit, stop being mean to him.” 

Well _thank_ you. At least Dick cared about him.

He heard Jason sigh. “Yeah, I guess we can’t just pick back up where we left off since we got interrupted. Kind of a mood killer.”

“Well I didn’t say _that_.” There was more kissing. “Later though.”

Tim felt himself go through all five stages of grief in bare seconds. Personally, he thought he should qualify for a veteran’s discount after today.

Eventually, they reemerged — _with_ coffee for him, thankfully.

They sat down — Jason in his chair, and Dick on the other side of the couch — and sipped their tea. Unfortunately, Tim was now having trouble keeping his eyes away from _Dick’s_ mouth. 

He wasn’t _trying_ to think about it, but the problem with being the type of person who thought about everything all the time was that it didn’t really ever _stop_. Like, had Jason even washed his mouth? Because—

Jason snapped his fingers directly in front of Tim’s face.

“Quit it,” he said warningly.

Tim was starting to think his face would never go back to its normal color again.

“So,” Dick said. “What’d you come over for?”

“I just wanted to check in if you had any new leads on that embezzling case,” Tim mumbled, and grabbed his coffee from where Dick had set it on the table for something to do.

It was stone cold.

◇◇◇

Tim called Damian from the parking garage before he even started his bike to head home. Damian was the one who visited Dick and Jason most often, and he was _also_ the one who had started the whole barging in thing in the first place. Tim thought it would probably be best if nobody else had the same sort of...unfortunate encounter that he had.

“What.”

“Hey, Dami— Dames...Damian.” Okay, so perhaps Tim was still a bit out of sorts from that level of prolonged, excruciating embarrassment, and _maybe_ his voice was an octave or two higher than usual, and it was _possible_ that he was doing an absolutely horrible job at sounding casual.

“Yes. Drake. What do you want?”

“Ah, yeah...so, um, the knocking thing...that’s important, something you should do, definitely, yes.”

“What?”

“Uh, well, I just went over to Jay and Dick’s and, well, the thing they keep saying about knocking before you go into places is, um, yeah that, uh...really needs to be followed now because I, uh...yeah. Just. Knock. And maybe stop using the bedroom window as an entrance.”

“Ew.” Damian hung up.

Well. Rude, but Tim supposed he had gotten the point.

◇◇◇

Damian entered Dick and Jason’s flat through the living room window, and stood with his arms crossed, glowering at the bedroom door.

It wasn’t a big deal, really, it was just...annoying. And now he was going to have to sit alone in his room at the manor when he had a shit day, and that just...well it wasn’t the _worst_ , but it was much better to be _here_ where he knew someone cared for him and wasn’t afraid to show it, even if he didn’t always say it back.

“Come on.” He heard through the wall.

“Jay!” Dick gasped.

Ugh. He did _not_ need to hear this. 

“Richard,” he called, not bothering to go over and knock on the door. It was the principle of the thing, and he’d do it on his own terms like he did everything else.

“Uh, one minute Dami!” Dick’s voice sounded strained.

There was a quick series of clattering thumps. “Shit.” 

_What in the hell was that?_

“Hey, little D!” Dick bounded out of the room in sweatpants and a t-shirt, red faced and messy haired. “What’s up?”

Dick embraced him tightly, and Damian frowned, but didn’t resist.

He figured it would be best to cut to the heart of things. “I suppose you won’t want me to come over after patrols now,” he stated.

“What? No.” Dick actually looked saddened by the idea. “Why do you say that?”

Damian gave him a flat look, but Dick just continued to look bewildered. Oh great, he was going to have to say it.

He wasn’t bothered by sex in general — the idea of sex was fine, sure, whatever. But _Richard_ having sex? No. No thanks. That fell under the same category as _father_ having sex: Things Damian Very Much Never Wanted To Acknowledge Or Think About Happening. Ever.

He grimaced. “Because you and Todd are...busier now.”

“What?” Dick looked taken aback, and then he laughed. “ _Oh_ , you mean...Uh, not _that_ busy. No, after patrols is fine! Just, ugh, come sit down.”

He headed back toward the bedroom door, which Damian eyed dubiously.

“You coming?” It took a second, but then Dick rolled his eyes. “We weren’t having sex, Damian, jesus. Actually, what we were doing was far more embarrassing — not that you should be embarrassed by sex!" he hastily added.

Damian just looked at him.

“We were both fully clothed and I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

He waited, biting back a smirk. Richard always told him.

“Fine!” Dick let out a huff and crossed his arms. “We were trying to see how many books I could balance on my feet while doing a handstand,” he mumbled. "We only got up to fourteen."

Damian was unable to hold back a snort at that. That...explained the noises quite well, actually.

“Tt. And which one of us is the child?”

Dick ignored him and went into the room, and Damian followed. Sure enough, a small pile of books lay in disarray over the floor.

“Oh, thanks for picking those up, Jay,” Dick said sarcastically, but there was no bite.

Jason just ‘Hmm’ed from where he was laid on the floor reading, one leg propped up on a shelf of the bookcase. “Realized I hadn’t reread Crime and Punishment in a while, got distracted,” he muttered. "Hey gremlin."

“Hello Todd.”

Dick flopped down on the bed, and patted the place beside him. Damian sat.

“So, as I was saying, after patrols is still good, wonderful, I love when you stay over.” He stretched his leg out to prod Jason with his toe. “Right, Jay?”

“What? Oh, yeah, nights are good.” He tossed the book toward the others and stretched. “After patrol is perfect, not like we’re gonna be fuckin' or anything — been runnin around the city all night, probably injured, I mean who has the energy?”

“ _Okay_ , not how I would have said it, but…” Dick held his hands out, as if to say ‘well there you go'.

Damian watched as Jason wrapped a hand around Dick’s ankle so he’d stop waving his foot around obnoxiously, and, seemingly unconsciously, stroked his thumb over it soothingly. Sickening.

“Really though, it doesn’t just have to be after patrols," Jason added, "you can still drop by anytime. Just, yanno, _knock_ or something. Like we’ve _been_ telling you you should do anyway 'cause it’s _polite_.”

“Yeah, please don’t stop coming over, I hate when I only ever get to see you in costume.”

“Okay, I get it. You’re terrified of being left alone with Todd all the time.”

Both men laughed.

“I should go now, Alfred will be putting out dinner soon. I’ll stay over after patrol tonight?” Damian said.

“Yes!” Dick smiled. “And tell Tim to keep his fat mouth shut,” he added just before Damian left the room. “I don’t know what all he told you, but I know he’s the one who gave you those ideas.”

“Gladly,” Damian smirked, and shut the door.

He heard Jason’s laughter through the door as he headed back toward the window.

“Oh, Dickie,” he crooned mockingly. “You gonna cry?”

“Yes!” Dick replied earnestly. “He’s so sweet, I just love him so much. I legitimately am about to cry.”

Dick’s words were slightly muffled, like he was covering his mouth, but he did actually sound close to tears. Damian stood still in the middle of their living room.

That was about...him? He didn’t agree that he was _sweet_ , but still, it was...nice that Richard thought that. Flattering.

“Aww, I can already see the little breakdown you’re gonna have when he decides he’s too big to sleep here anymore. He’s, what, sixteen? Time’s a tickin’, sweetie pie.” Jason teased.

“Oh my god, don’t jinx it, I’m not kidding. I will genuinely cry when he refuses to cuddle anymore— Oh no," he interrupted himself. "What about if he gets in a relationship? He’s never gonna stay over again. We could let them stay too, right Jay? We could fit four people in this bed. Wait— what if he gets more than one?” Dick asked. “We should get a bigger bed,” he decided.

Jason laughed. “We are _not_ inviting some random kid into our bed.”

“Well when you say it like that it sounds creepy.”

“Aw, pumpkin,” he said fondly. “You’re adorable. That’s 'cause it _is_ super creepy. Birdie’s gotta leave the nest some day.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not! I’m sure he’ll still come visit all the time, and you can take afternoon naps together or whatever the hell, okay? He loves you so, so much, Dick. He tolerates _me_ because of you, and if that ain’t love, I don’t know what is. He’s not gonna just up and leave you! He’s a _teenager_ who still sleeps in our bed for comfort — he ain’t letting you go anytime soon.”

“Hey! Don’t be mean to yourself either, that’s my boyfriend you’re shit-talking.” Dick sighed. "And if you’re wrong about Dami, I _will_ cry. I’ll make a big dramatic to-do and everything.”

“I know, sweetheart. C’mere.”

Well. That was...really nice. Damian knew Richard loved him, but it was different hearing it from someone when it wasn't to your face, when you knew they really meant it. And he felt less like an intruder now, knowing that Richard, and even Todd, really _wanted_ him there when he showed up, not just wanted to make him feel better.

The sound of kissing reached him, and he hastily opened the window.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I really hope you enjoyed this emotional roller coaster ride of a fic! And I hope if you're struggling or have struggled with anything similar, that it was able to help you feel less alone and that some of the messages resonated with you.
> 
> Consider tossing me a comment, if you haven't already — they are my lifeblood, and I'd love to know what you thought!


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